


Two Masters in the Darkness

by Nefertiti_22002



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV), Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-06-04 23:31:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 53,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6680302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nefertiti_22002/pseuds/Nefertiti_22002
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a sequel to “Master and Man,” which dealt with Childermass’ life with Norrell, including their intimate relationship. That was told from Childermass’ point of view. Here we move into the beginning of Norrell’s being trapped in the Darkness with Strange, and their developing intimate relationship.<br/>The inspiration for this epic was a desire to reverse the situation of my earlier fic, “Jonathan Strange ♥ Mr Norrell.” There Norrell was sexually inexperienced and Strange initiated him. I wanted to make Norrell the sexually experienced one.</p><p>In “Jonathan Strange ♥ Mr Norrell” I did a lot of world-building, working out how Norrell and Strange dealt with life in the Darkness. Clarke has them leave England after only three weeks, traveling in Hurtfew via the Darkness. I had them out a way to purchase supplies and rehire some of Norrell’s servants. They figured out the premises of the spell in which they were trapped and researched how to work the magic to travel in Hurtfew.</p><p>I’m assuming that the same things happen much as they did in the earlier story. There are some references to that sort of thing going on in the background of the action here, but I focus mainly on the new plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Disloyalty of Mr Childermass

**Author's Note:**

> Not explicit until Chapter 6.
> 
> Thanks to Predatrix for betaing!

MID-FEBRUARY, 1817, After Mr Childermass’ detour to the Castle of the Plucked Eye and Heart

Once Mr Norrell and Mr Lascelles had resettled themselves in the coach, the latter thumped on the ceiling with his cane, and the driver set out toward Hurtfew.

Norrell thought about all that Childermass had just said. It had reminded him so vividly of his own longings in the first decade of his study of magic. Of his burning desire to have the Raven King return from wherever he had gone centuries ago and make the ancient spells work again and teach them to him. He had finally given up that desire, through heartrending disappointment and the utter, indifferent silence that all his spells, all his fervent attempts had met with. He had steeled himself to loneliness and single-minded work and had proven that one could do magic without the help of the Aureates and fairy servants.

Yet where he had failed years ago, Strange seemed in some way to have succeeded. He felt his old longings surfacing from the deep places within himself where he had hidden them, believing them forgotten entirely. To think that after all his efforts, he seemed shut out from participating in the return of English magic, the old English magic. He was still terrified of it, and yet, if it was returning, he yearned to play a role, however small, in its new age.

And there was Childermass. He had been enormously courageous in riding onto the fairy road. Norrell had to admit to himself that Childermass’ declaration of his hitherto secret support of the Raven King had frightened him, and yet he felt a grudging admiration of the man for his pride and his eloquence in speaking to Lascelles as he had. After all, Norrell was a Yorkshireman himself, and inevitably there was some fellow-feeling between him and Childermass in this matter.

Lascelles sat silent for a while as well, seeming to nurse his annoyance at Childermass. Finally he asked in a stern voice, “Are you not surprised that your servant would enter into a fairy road in that fashion—without even asking your permission?”

Norrell had increasingly come to resent Lascelles’ lectures when he took this tone of voice. He tried to reply in a reasonable way that would not provoke an even more scolding remonstrance. “Well, he is a courageous man, and he has long been fascinated by the Raven King and his type of magic … though I had not realized how much until just now.”

“Well, I hope now you understand how dangerous it is to continue to employ such a man, especially as we go north and face a confrontation with Jonathan Strange. After all, Childermass is fascinated by that same magic, and he makes no secret of it, does he?”

Norrell sighed. “No, and it is thanks to Mr Strange that we are in this predicament. Wild magic loosed upon England, so recklessly.” He paused and sighed. “And yet, I wonder if Childermass’ fascination with the Raven King much matters now. With the old magic unleashed anew, we must deal with it in some way. I know a considerable amount about it myself from …” He blushed and went on hurriedly, “… from studies in my youth. But perhaps Childermass understands him better in some ways.”

“I hope you do not see that as an advantage to us, sir! I was not pleased to see you defend that fellow when he returned to the coach—and to have you contradict me. Now you seem ready to take his part again.”

Norrell sighed again. He had always wished that Lascelles would be less critical of Childermass. He decided that he did not want to enter into this argument again, so he remained silent. He stared out the window at the bleak landscape passing by them, wishing that they could arrive at Hurtfew sooner. He wanted to check its magical defenses and then, if it was safe, tomorrow he could spend some time alone in his library. He could take down books he had not touched in many years and perhaps learn something useful in this new situation.

Mr Lascelles, however, did not let the conversation drop. He cleared his throat and said quietly, “Sir, do you see no connection between those men in their admiration for the Raven King?”

“Connection?”

“Well, I have been telling you for some time now that Childermass’ sympathies lie more with Strange than with you. It is precisely because of their mutual fascination with the Raven King. Strange has been exploiting Childermass to help him undermine your standing with the important officials who formerly held you in the highest esteem. And observe what just happened. Do you think Childermass would have dared to ride into Faerie now had he not known in advance what Strange was planning to do?”

Norrell shifted uncomfortably. He replied, “He might have. As I said, he is a brave man.”

Lascelles snorted. “Brave! Sir, you are too kind in your views of that fellow. His behaviour at the castle he described was that of a coward. Moreover, he betrays you at every opportunity.”

“Well, he always does what I order him to do, even though I know that sometimes he disagrees with my wishes. He even helped me in the destruction of Mr Strange’s book without putting up any protest.”

Lascelles leaned forward and stared into his eyes. “Perhaps so, but he also does things that you do not order him to do, things of which you are wholly unaware.”

Norrell looked at him doubtfully. “You know something that you have not told me, do you not?”

Lascelles paused and lowered his eyes before facing Norrell again. He said reluctantly, “Yes. I have known something shameful about that pair for some time, sir, and yet I hesitated to give you further grief in a time of troubles … but I see that I cannot delay any longer. Please try not to be too upset by what I am about to tell you. Childermass is not only a supporter of Strange’s views on magic and of his traitorous actions. He … he is so unnatural as to be in love with the man.”

Norrell stared at him with an incredulous frown. “But Mr Strange was married. Surely that means he does not have an attraction to men. Childermass’ affection, if such it be, must have been unrequited.”

Lascelles shook his head. “You know too little of the world, sir, and in this case it is all to your credit. You are above such sordid concerns. It is the case, however, that there are some men who desire men and women alike.”

Norrell slumped back slightly in his seat and gazed unseeing out the window. Finally he said softly, “You know far more about such things than I, so I suppose there are such men. Still, I cannot believe that Mr Strange has such inclinations or that he would form such an immoral relationship with Childermass.”

“You cannot believe it because you are yourself so honest and kind, believing the best of everyone. But, I am sad to say, it is true. How do you think Childermass was so easily able to gain access to the shop where Strange’s illustrations were being created? Strange himself welcomed him and talked long with him. They were together for quite some time.”

“How … how do you know this? All Childermass said was that at the engraving shop he had managed to examine the illustrations closely enough to describe them to us.”

“Sir, forgive me, but I have long suspected that there was a growing alliance between those two. You are too good to even imagine such a thing, but I know the ways of the world all too well. I have hired agents to follow Childermass. One did so on that day. He saw Childermass go into the shop. A short time later he and Strange came out together. They went to Strange’s house together and were there for an hour and more.”

Norrell sat up straight again and said eagerly, “But … but that proves nothing!”

“No, but when Childermass left, Mr Strange saw him out at the door and was in his shirtsleeves. The two looked around like fugitives and quickly shared a kiss.”

Norrell was breathing harder and looking at Lascelles with a forlorn expression. 

“That is not all. My men have continued to follow Childermass, and he has often visited Strange’s house. On more than one occasion he has stayed there late into the evening—and the drawing-room was not lit up, but a room upstairs was. Almost certainly Strange’s bedroom. I believe that on those occasions you had not given Childermass any orders that would have taken him to visit Strange.”

Norrell shook his head. “Since my split with Mr Strange I have never asked Childermass to find out anything regarding him, except on that one occasion. But I … surely I would have known! I would have noticed—ˮ

“No, sir. Those evenings were always ones when you attended a lengthy event at the Admiralty or were similarly occupied away from home. Childermass knew your schedule. He recorded your appointments himself and arranged his illicit assignations for such nights. I assure you, sir, I have detailed reports from my agents.”

“Show them to me then.”

“Unfortunately they are in my desk at home, sir. I was in a great hurry to return to you so that you could set out for Hurtfew. I did not even stop at home, and it would not have occurred to me that I would have any use for them on this trip. I was too worried about Strange to think about other things. Indeed, I had rather hoped that I would never have occasion to show them to you and thus cause you unhappiness. Now that the business has come out, however, I shall assuredly send them to you when I return to London.” He paused and said with a grave face, “I am sorry to have been the bearer of such news, sir, but I could no longer abide your being deceived by this insolent fellow.”

Lascelles settled back into his seat and tried to doze.

Norrell, however, could not do the same. He thought of what Lascelles had just told him and wondered if somehow the man knew about his love for Strange. He was startled and not a little shocked that without telling him Lascelles should have hired agents to watch Childermass. As Childermass had once insisted, he was Norrell’s servant, not Lascelles’. Whom else might Lascelles have told those men to watch? He, himself? He would not be surprised. Lascelles seemed to know all of the magician’s secrets by now and to use them to his own advantage.

He pondered the affair between Childermass and Strange. For years he had simply assumed that Strange would never look with desire upon another man, and yet now he had done just that. Not upon his tutor, who had yearned for exactly that impossible thing to happen. No, upon his servant! It made sense, he admitted, given that Childermass was somewhat younger than he, distinctly better looking, and quite manly. Naturally that thought did anything but comfort him. And that Childermass, after their years together, should turn to another! Yet how could any man with such inclinations see Strange and speak with him and not desire him? Of course they would want each other rather than him. The double betrayal was all he could think of, mile after mile, as tears pricked at his eyes.

It occurred to him to wonder whether, once they reached Hurtfew and Strange arrived, Childermass would stay loyal to him or join forces with the other magician against him.


	2. Mr Norrell Caresses Mr Strange’s Hair and Learns of Mr Lascelles’ Lies

The night of the Disenchantment proceeded in a maelstrom of joy and fear and desperate thought and strenuous effort and chaos and ultimate fulfillment. Mr Norrell discovered in his magical silver basin that Lady Pole and Mrs Strange were no longer in Faerie. Lady Pole was somewhere in Yorkshire, not very far away. Mrs Strange was in Italy. Mr Norrell could have continued his endeavours and located her more specifically, but for now Italy seemed enough. Since Mr Strange had prudently arranged for her pathway out of Lost-hope, he presumably knew precisely where she was.

Mr Strange turned away without speaking and was silent for a time. Mr Norrell was not sure what his reaction to his wife’s freedom was, but he was somewhat puzzled that the man seemed to express no joy.

He himself felt an enormous weight of guilt lifted from his shoulders. He had betrayed his own principles in summoning a Fairy to help him resurrect Lady Pole. He had never told anyone about the horrible scene where he had confronted the Gentleman with the thistledown hair and unwisely bartered away half of her life in order to further his own career as the Greatest Magician of the Age. The lies he had had to tell, the regret he felt about being able to do nothing to rescue the lady, all had haunted him for years. Now they were past, and he vaguely thought that he might eventually find a way to make it up to her in some fashion.

In the meantime, there was the fact that he was trapped in a Pillar of Eternal Darkness, here in his wondrous library at Hurtfew with his beloved Mr Strange as his only companion. He probably should feel terribly afraid and trapped and hopeless. Yet if he were truthful with himself, for the moment he felt content and free and hopeful. He had his home, his books and the man he loved. Not that the man he loved could love him back, but the situation was certainly a vast improvement over the rivalry and distrust they had felt toward each other since their parting almost exactly two years ago. If they could only return to those joyous days before Mr Strange’s departure for the war had changed everything!

Both were exhausted. They went to the kitchen. There was plenty of fresh food in the pantry, but Strange could not face the task of learning to run the huge stove and putting together a proper cooked meal. Instead the two scraped together a meagre supper of nuts, sausage, bread, cheese, some dried fruit, and two-thirds of a bottle of claret. Norrell found a spare bedroom for his friend, and they retired early. Norrell lay awake for a while, his joy in the prospect of living in the same house as Strange growing. Somehow they would have to find a way to obtain food and other necessities, but he was confident that they could do so. Other magicians would be trapped in the Darkness if they entered it, but ordinary people were free to come and go, if they could be persuaded that it was safe—and lucrative—to cater to the two magicians’ needs.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

THE FIRST DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT

The next day left the magicians no leisure for savouring their triumphs of the night before. They had quickly to adjust to their new situation. Their first priority was surveying the situation as regarded supplies of food. Although the servants had taken away the horses and other animals from the barn, they had not taken the chickens. The cellars were stocked with dried staples, and the wine cellar, though not as full as it had been in Norrell’s uncle’s day, had enough bottles to last them quite some time.

Since most of the servants had come to Hurtfew four days earlier with Norrell, Childermass and Lascelles, food for the entire group had been purchased. Now, with only two to feed, there was a reasonable amount of fresh food in the cold pantry. Strange managed to make a generous breakfast of eggs, bacon and toast. Norrell missed his morning chocolate, which the cook had forgotten to purchase, and they vowed to try and obtain a cow.

After breakfast the pair composed a letter to the mayor of the nearest town, Great Ouseburn, explaining their situation and asking for help in acquiring supplies and establishing a regular delivery and pick-up of mail. They walked out the front door and down the long driveway, with the pillar of Darkness shifting with them. 

To their surprise, they discovered that the driveway passed under a stone archway at the end of Norrell’s property. Its crumbling surface was carved with statues of John Uskglass. After studying it for a while, they concluded that the archway had been added to the Darkness by Uskglass on the night of the Disenchantment, perhaps to mark the Darkness as his own. Norrell detected a gap in the magical protections under the arch. The two suspected that it was the only entrance by which people who wished to visit them could enter and leave the Darkness. 

They moved beyond the archway and, assuming that they were beyond the ordinary boundaries of the Darkness, attached their letter to a tree.

Next they measured how far apart they could be before the magic drew one of them back to the other. This turned out to be about two hundred feet—somewhat less than the distance from the front door to the archway that marked the edge of the Darkness, they estimated.

Once back inside the library, they discussed their plans. Strange wanted to move the Darkness to Padua so that he could visit Arabella and tell her about their situation. Norrell would perforce have to go with him, but he hated travel, being subject to motion sickness. The thought of the sea journey appalled him. He was also reluctant to leave Hurtfew now that he had finally been able to return to his beloved home. He realized, however, that he could hardly deny Strange the opportunity to visit his wife after such a long and anxious separation.

Strange suggested that they should try to devise a way in which they could move via the Darkness and take Hurtfew with them. It was a bold idea, one which impressed Norrell very much. He always delighted in facing truly challenging magical tasks. They agreed to make devising a way to travel within Hurtfew a goal to work toward.

It also occurred to them that if people from outside could visit them in the Darkness and leave again, they might be able to hire some servants, perhaps some of the ones who had previously worked for Norrell. Not as many servants as before, perhaps, but at least a cook, a footman, a man to take care of the animals and garden and a maid or two. If they assembled a small staff, they should consider buying two cows as soon as possible. They were unsure as to whether the grass and other plants in the Darkness would survive without sunshine, but if necessary cows could be pastured outside its borders.

They spent part of the afternoon exploring Hurtfew and its contents. Naturally Norrell had never paid any attention to the practicalities of housekeeping, so he had no familiarity with the contents of linen closets and the other places frequented primarily by the servants. They discovered brooms, a laundry tub and various other items that they would need to use until they managed to arrange for servants to take over the chores.

Finally they concocted two lists, one of foodstuffs and basic necessities, mostly notably candles and lamp oil, that they had on hand and another listing the groceries they needed to order. This took some time. Finally Strange read over what they had written down.

He concluded, “I can’t think of anything to add. We need nothing beyond simple ingredients that I can deal with until we manage to hire a cook—and who knows how long that will take.”

He tossed it on Norrell’s desk and spread his arms, surveying his clothing.

“We need another list, too. I brought absolutely nothing with me when I came here from Venice. Just the clothes I am wearing, and they are distinctly in need of washing. Obviously nothing of yours would fit me, but might there be something left behind by the servants?”

“We could check Childermass’ room, though he probably took all his belongings with him. Any clothes he left behind would probably fit you.”

They went up to the second floor and found Childermass’ small room, but it was completely stripped of possessions. Trying the rooms of the other servants, they found only their livery, which belonged to their former master. In one closet Strange discovered a footman’s outfit that was large enough for him. 

“Ah, well, I suppose it will do until I have washed my own clothes—especially the smallclothes. Those will have to dry overnight. Luckily I sleep in the nude.” He smiled ruefully. “Still, we must try to lure a tailor into visiting us, offering riches untold if he will venture into the Darkness.”

Norrell surveyed Strange. He had immediately noticed how wild-looking and unkempt Strange was when they had met the night before, but they had been too busy up to now for him to say anything about it. Strange’s beautiful hair was long and tangled and dirty. His scalp probably itched as well, since he was frequently scratching his head.

“As long as you are undressing, you may wish to bathe and particularly to wash your hair.” Norrell suggested. “I believe it would be much easier for us to bathe if we were to move a tub down into the kitchen. That way we would have hot water ready to hand and not need to make many trips upstairs carrying heavy buckets.”

Strange agreed, and they fetched the tub out of the bathroom adjacent to Norrell’s bedroom. Being wood lined with tin, it was heavy even for two, but they partly carried, partly dragged it. To get it down the stairs, they slid it on an old blanket.

As soon as they had heated enough water and half-filled the tub, Strange began to strip off his clothes. Norrell stared at him, quite unable to force himself to altogether avoid looking at the man’s muscular chest and back once he had removed his shirt. Strange was quite as beautiful as he had imagined. Fortunately he did not seem to be self-conscious about disrobing in front of another man. Norrell supposed that during the war he had sometimes bathed in rivers along with the soldiers.

“Oh, dear! Were you wounded in the fighting, Mr Strange?” he asked, pointing at a scar on the right side of the other magician’s ribs. “I had not thought you would be anywhere near the battles.”

“That? No, I can’t blame Boney’s troops for that. Entirely my fault. I’m afraid one evening I had had a bit too much to drink. We were billeted in a barn, and in the dark I managed to run into one tine of a pitchfork that has been wedged into the side of a stall.”

“Oh, my Lord! How awful!”

“Actually, it wasn’t as bad as it may look. It was a glancing blow that gouged me slightly but didn’t penetrate far. And fortunately we usually had doctors about, so it was cleaned up quite soon.”

Norrell shook his head. “Still, what a pity! Your smooth, white skin, marred like that.” 

As Strange unbuttoned his placket and the side slits of his knee breeches, Norrell added hastily, backing toward the door, “I, um, I shall leave you alone, then, Mr Strange, shall I?”

Strange, now nearly naked, turned to him. “Actually, I believe I could use some help. Camping out during the war, I learned to wash my hair with two small basins of water. I just soaped it up and rinsed twice. Very efficient. But now it is so long that I doubt that would work, and I can’t really see it well enough to deal with all the tangles.”

Norrell could hardly refuse without seeming ungracious, and he had to admit to himself that he was quite pleased to have an excuse to stay. He replied, “Oh, yes, certainly! I wonder what we could use to deal with those snarls. I shall just have a look in the bedrooms. I do recall seeing a rather beautiful set of brushes and combs that had belonged to my mother. It was left in one of the more splendid rooms for the use of female guests.”

He was gone for about ten minutes, during which Strange got into the tub and scrubbed himself clean. He was soaking in the warm water, his head resting on the higher end of the tub, when Norrell returned with the combs and brushes.

Strange looked up with a grin. “I feel so much better! I can’t remember the last time that I had a proper wash.” 

Norrell was surveying what he could see of the man, though Strange’s position, with his legs bent and his knees drawn up close to his chest, gave him no opportunity to assess his private parts. Just as well, Norrell thought. He already had a slight erection and did not want Strange to notice it.

“You look rather thinner than I remember.”

“Yes, part of being mad as a hatter tends to involve not taking much care of oneself. At the time, I would certainly eat if someone brought me something, but if not, I tended to forget or just to eat stale scraps if there were any lying about my room.”

“Was there no one to bring you food? Did you not have a servant?”

“No servant, apart from that of my landlord, who had no reason to be particularly attentive to me. Still, early on during my time in Venice I met a charming family, Dr. Greysteel, his sister and his daughter Flora. They were very kind to me, often inviting me to take tea or to dine with them. That was before I started my serious efforts to become mad. Miss Greysteel had some rather romantic notions about me and was, naturally, fascinated by magic.”

Norrell felt a pang of jealousy at that. “I suppose that was during the time when you thought you were a widower. Was she … was she pretty?”

“Yes, quite. I did nothing to encourage her, though, despite the fact that nearly a year had passed since Bell’s apparent death. I was too wrapped up in my obsession with summoning a Fairy. Nevertheless, Miss Greysteel generously continued to help me once I discovered that Bell was in fact alive. The Greysteels subsequently took a house in Padua. That is why I must visit Arabella there. I sent her to Miss Greysteel when we disenchanted her and Lady Pole. She should be safely with the family now, and I’m sure they will take excellent care of her. What worries me is getting word to her that I am alive and well. She must be horribly anxious, having no doubt heard from the Greysteels about the Darkness.”

Norrell realised that Strange was more concerned about his wife than he had seemed to be the night before. That saddened him, since it suggested that he would want to find a way to dispel the Darkness as soon as possible and then leave Hurtfew. He concealed his reaction and simply asked, “Shall I make an effort to do something with your hair now?”

Strange slid upward so that Norrell could have access to his head. Norrell stepped closer to the tub, positioning himself behind Strange. Alternating a small comb and a brush, he worked at the hair very gently and carefully.

“Don’t brush from the roots to begin with. Start at the ends of the strands and work upward. Arabella has thick, curly hair and always needs to do that when she washes it. It takes longer, but there will be less tugging and pain and resultant gnashing of teeth on my part.”

Norrell smiled. Strange was quite amusing with his exaggerations. He was entirely happy to take as much time as it required—and more—in fussing over such a beautiful man, grubby though he might be at the outset. So Norrell took his advice and gradually picked out the tangles. He reflected on how often he had wished he could run his fingers through Strange’s beautiful, curly hair. How ironic it was that when he finally had the chance, it was all snarled and dirty!

His patience was finally rewarded. The dirt remained, but the hair was less unruly. He prepared a basin of warm water to pour over Strange while the other man soaped his hair and vigorously rubbed it with his long fingers. 

Norrell, now past his original nervousness at seeing Strange naked, enjoyed the view. Strange had his eyes closed, and Norrell leaned forward slightly, but the soapy water made it impossible for him to catch a glimpse of the man’s prick. Yes, definitely just as well. His own prick was not cooperating with the goal of remaining inconspicuous. He turned away and stared at a rack full of small jars holding spices. Some of the names on the labels were unfamiliar, and he vaguely wondered if any of them were suitable for magical use. Such thoughts did not divert him for long.

“All right, I’m ready for a rinse,” Strange said, taking in a deep breath and holding it. 

Norrell turned and picked up the basin, emptying it over his head and then examining his hair.

“I think possibly a second washing would be advisable,” he said, and they repeated the process.

At last Strange was thoroughly clean, and he stood up abruptly and stepped out of the tub. As he was busy toweling his hair dry, Norrell admired the impressive cock displayed before him. It was probably a little longer than usual through the relaxing effects of the warm water, but even so … It was as big as Childermass’, he reckoned, or nearly so. Remembering his habitual exchanges of pleasure with his man of business, he experienced a surge of intense desire. He briefly pictured himself taking Strange up to his bedroom and showing him similar pleasures which they could share. He abruptly realized that it was less than a week since he and Childermass had last gone to bed together, back in London. So much had happened that it seemed more like the distant past.

Norrell tried to pull himself together. Noticing an apron draped over the oven door-handle, he hastily picked it up and passed his arms through the straps. He couldn’t manage the button at the back, but the skirt hung down loosely in front and helped to conceal the distinct bulge in his breeches. As Strange finished drying himself, he sat down, and Norrell again gently brushed his hair.

Strange put on the footman’s outfit. He used the soapy bath water to wash his only set of smallclothes and hung them by the stove to dry. 

Turning to Norrell, he said cheerfully, “Now, what shall I fix us for dinner? I am, as you say, a bit thin after my experiences and very hungry.”

“There are those chops we noticed in the pantry. Potatoes as well, and butter to put on them. I do love buttered potatoes.”

“Shall I boil some carrots as well? And there should be something sweet for after. That large tin of biscuits, if nothing else. I am quite good at grilling and boiling things, but our lodgings during the war seldom offered the option for baking bread and cakes.”

“That menu sounds quite pleasant. While you prepare it, you can tell me the various things you would need from a tailor, and I can make a list. Surely once we establish contact with the world outside, we can persuade tradesmen to visit us here.”

“Do you think any one will dare?”

“Well, I imagine they think we fought a terrible duel last night. Once they discover that we are both alive and concerned with the CHOSES DE LA VIE, as the French would say, they may become bolder—especially with the prospect of having someone as wealthy as I become a customer again. I am, after all, something of a pillar of the local economy.”

Norrell made up the list as Strange cooked. At first, Strange’s requests were modest and few, but Norrell kept suggesting more items of apparel and toiletries. He did not say so, but the prospect of working alongside Strange for an indefinite period of time was very pleasant, and he wished for the other magician to look as well-groomed and well-dressed as possible. Not suspecting this motivation on Norrell’s part, Strange looked surprised and remarked two or three times on how generous he was being, since obviously Norrell would be paying for everything.

Though fairly simple, the meal Strange cooked was far tastier and more satisfying than the previous night’s sparse supper, and they enjoyed it thoroughly. They lingered at the table, talking over all that had occurred the night before and speculating on what had happened at Lost-hope. In particular they wondered what had become of the Fairy and how he had met his apparent end.

By the time they had finished their dessert of sweet biscuits, Strange’s hair was dry but rather inclined to stick out in all directions. 

“Shall I brush your hair one last time?” Norrell asked. 

Strange looked around. “Well, given that there is no mirror about, I must depend upon you again. Thank you.”

Norrell felt that he should be the one saying thank you, since he finally was able to stroke Strange’s soft, beautiful curls as he brushed them. All too soon, however, he was finished.

He stepped back and assessed Strange’s freshly washed appearance. “You look much better, but your hair has grown far too long. We should add a barber to our lists of requirements.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++

The two magicians returned to the library after dinner. They were tired after all their work earlier in the day. They could not avoid, however, the task of writing out several copies of their letter to the local mayor, this time including the lists of supplies and items that they wished to purchase and have delivered. They also specified that deliveries should be left just outside the archway unless those bringing them wished to come into the Darkness through that archway. If their original letter had not been found, they planned to leave these copies in various conspicuous places.

At last all was prepared, with a stack of letters on the desk. The two moved to relax on the sopha in front of the fire. They sat in companionable silence for a time, sipping madeira-wine.

With some of the basic necessities now obtained and some plans, however tentative, made for the future, Norrell’s mind turned to things that Lascelles had told him about Childermass and Strange. At several points during the course of Strange’s bath, thoughts of Childermass seeing that beautiful naked body and stroking that lovely hair had flashed into his mind. He had tried to ignore them, but they had definitely interfered with what should have been a thoroughly delightful experience.

He was extremely reluctant to bring up the subject, but he felt that he could not bear to live with Strange and not know the truth of what had happened between the two before the other magician’s departure for Italy.

Norrell dithered for a time, but he finally took a deep breath and said, “Mr Strange, I do not wish to spoil this very enjoyable evening, but … well, there are some things that I simply must know, and you are the only one who can enlighten me.”

“Of course, if I can,” replied Strange, shifting slightly on the sopha to look at Norrell with a curious little frown.

“As you might imagine, since you … decided that you and I should part ways, Mr Lascelles has continued to be an assistant and advisor to me up until … well, it seems longer ago, but it was only yesterday when I lost track of him when I was trying to navigate your labyrinth.” He hesitated, but Strange nodded encouragement.

“To be frank, for some time now, Mr Lascelles has been telling me that Childermass was becoming less loyal to me and increasingly sympathetic to your views of magic.”

Strange thought for a moment before replying, “I think, sir, that he was perhaps more open to my views than you were, but that does not mean that he did not also support yours.”

“Well, feeling about you as I did at that time, I saw his attitude as a possible betrayal. I at least became suspicious of him. And then … only a few days ago, Mr Lascelles and I were traveling to Hurtfew. I of course was anxious to return to my library and protect it and myself against what I saw as a potential attack by you.”

“Given my behaviour in recent months, I cannot blame you for believing I would do such a thing. But I assure you, I could never bring myself to hurt you, sir, whatever else you think I have done to you.”

“Well, I believe you now, of course, but at the time I heard terrible rumours and thought you completely mad and perhaps capable of anything. At first I believed that you might assume I was still in London. If your intent was to have a magical duel with me, you would probably have gone to Hanover-square first. Childermass, however, was convinced that you would come here instead, and I decided he was probably right. I didn’t think you would destroy the books, but you might take them away.”

“Possibly I was mad enough to come here with the intension of doing something so despicable. Once I arrived here, though, I saw the beauty of the place and the awe-inspiring collection of knowledge that you amassed. I imagined you sitting here reading or doing experiments. My anger at you simply drained away, and I wished you were indeed here. And I started to … well, you saw what I was doing when you entered the library.”

“You were … you were reading something.”

“Yes, I was doing research. My goal was simply to rescue kidnapped people from a fairy, and yet I knew so little about how to do that. It had never occurred to me that I would need such knowledge. Of course, you and I touched upon the subject occasionally in passing, but it was never part of my lessons. So I decided to read about fairy abductions! To do that, I needed to see the books that you had kept from me all those years, the ones you had left in your library here.

“Of course, I assumed that you would do anything to stop me from seeing those books, and after all, I was a trifle frightened of you as well. I had no idea what lengths you would go to in order to defend yourself. So I concocted a labyrinth to replace your own, so that I could keep you out. I fancied I had learned so much that I was now your equal, or even your superior as a magician. Ha, as if I could fool you for long!

“Well, of course, you managed to make your way through it. Still, the labyrinth took you some time to untangle, giving me a few hours of privacy to read books I hoped might help me. I was mightily discouraged to learn how very difficult it is to stop fairy abductions from happening. Even John Uskglass could not prevent such things, and as I said last night, why should I think myself more capable of doing it than he was?” He paused. “It made me feel somewhat less guilty about having unwittingly left Arabella open to such a kidnapping, but no less determined to free her.”

“Why did you think you could free her if you had not been able to prevent her abduction?”

“Oh, I was not certain that I could, but really, I had no choice but to try. More importantly, though, I hoped I might free her because by then I was with you, sir. I was downhearted by what I had read, and yet at that very moment you appeared. You had penetrated my labyrinth, which I had genuinely intended to keep you out.” He smiled. “And you did not berate me or try to force me to leave. Instead we began talking, almost as we used to, so easily. That made me think, well, we are the two magicians of the prophecy, and we have a momentous task before us that we might possibly accomplish if we work together.”

Strange’s smile had the same dazzling effect on Norrell that it had had from their second meeting, when Strange had done his magic. He smiled in response. “And we did.”

Strange replied, “Yes. Ah, but we have drifted off the subject. You were speaking of your suspicions that Childermass was becoming more loyal to me than to you.”

Norrell hesitated. “You came to know Childermass fairly well during the time you were my student, did you not?”

Strange stared at him, surprised at the question. “Well, naturally we struck up a bit of a friendship. He was interested in magic, to a degree, at any rate. And he’s a witty fellow, ready to tell or laugh at a joke. To be frank, I much preferred his company to that of Mr Drawlight and Mr Lascelles, who seemed to disapprove of me from the start.”

Norrell looked searchingly into his face. “Much later, roughly a year ago, he visited you. Indeed, I sent him to find out what he could about your book, and apparently you had a long … conversation.”

“Oh, is that what this is about? Yes, I must admit that we had a very pleasant conversation and I offered to take him on as my pupil and assistant. Forgive me, sir, but I was quite angry with you at the time, of course. It was a low point in our relations, what with your strong opposition to the publication of my book.”

Norrell nodded. “No, I quite understand. I suspected that eventually you would make him some such offer, and indeed you did. But obviously he refused.” He took some comfort in knowing that.

“Yes. To be sure, he was not entirely in agreement with you over matters of magic. Yet he was certainly not entirely in agreement with me, either. His main desire was that different opinions about magic should be allowed to flourish—not just yours. He’s a remarkable fellow. It must have been interesting having him for all those years as your servant or man of business or whatever he was.”

By now Norrell was barely listening, since he dreaded going on with this conversation. He realized, however, that he had to learn the truth or be haunted by intolerable doubts. He forced himself to speak. “Very recently, Mr Lascelles has claimed that Childermass was not only drawn to your views on magic, but beyond that, he hinted that you two might have formed a very close relationship. An intimate one, in fact. On the coach trip to Hurtfew, he stated directly that he had put spies on Childermass and learned that it was true. He said that these men had written up reports for him, but that he had left them behind in London in the hurry to depart.”

Strange had turned pale and was staring at him. “Damn his eyes! I hope you do not believe everything he told you, for with him, there would be truth in what he said only if it were to his advantage to speak it.” He shook his head and clenched his teeth. “Not only did I not have such a relationship with Childermass, but I have never so much as laid a finger on a man in that way.” 

Norrell stared at him, stricken, and burst out, “Damn his eyes indeed! I believed him and sent Childermass away shortly before I joined you here in the library that fateful night.” Despite his relief at learning that the affair had never taken place, he felt on the verge of tears to think of his injustice to Childermass.

Strange hesitated and said softly, “I admit that since early in my studies with you I rather assumed that you and Childermass … Forgive me if I am wrong.”

Norrell took out a handkerchief and blew his nose. “No, you are right. We were lovers through much of our stay in London. I hate to admit it, but even though I knew Mr Lascelles was not entirely to be trusted, when he accused the two of you, I believed him! I suppose it seemed plausible because of Childermass’ sympathies for your type of magic. Mr Lascelles may have exaggerated those, but I knew he did favour you to some extent. 

“Then that day when you brought the Darkness here, I was so terrified at the prospect of your arrival, I was not thinking clearly. It came to a choice between the two of them, and I choze Mr Lascelles over Childermass. Almost as soon as Childermass walked out the door, I realized that I had made a mistake. I had no evidence that you and he had been intimate, apart from Mr Lascelles’ word. I thought perhaps later Mr Lascelles would show me the spies’ reports. If it turned out that he did not have any, I had some vague idea that I might be able to talk to Childermass, to patch things up between us. That is, if I survived the duel that I believed you and I would engage in when you arrived! Little did I know that very soon I would be alive but cut off from the rest of the world.” He sighed.

Strange had listened to him sympathetically. “And that is my fault, though I certainly never intended to be trapped by the Fairy in this Darkness, let alone for you to be inadvertently ensnared here with me.”

“Oh, you must not blame yourself for that, Mr Strange. You were deceived by him, just as I was. I must say, I am not particularly upset by being ‘trapped’ within the house I love so much, even in the Darkness. I am quite used to reading by lamp or candle light. I cannot be wholly easy in my mind, however, until I can communicate my regrets to Childermass.” He looked around the library. “He and I sat here reading together in the evenings for over fifteen years. Before we became lovers, that is. There’s his desk over in the corner, where he worked.” He was fighting tears again. “Perhaps in the next few days our letters will be answered, and you and I will have established a way to convey messages to people in the world outside. Then I shall apologize to him.”

He looked so distressed that Mr Strange ventured to ask, “If I may be so bold, were you in love with him, sir?”

Norrell looked into his face, and seeing his genuine concern, looked away again, thinking. Finally he made up his mind and said with some hesitation, “I suppose that at one time I rather assumed so. We worked very well together, and we shared a great deal of pleasure, both friendly and intimate. He offered me a companionship such as I had never enjoyed in my life, and I know he respected and liked me for having taken a chance in hiring him and trusting him despite knowing about his … well, his youth and lack of relevant experience. And given our desires and the contempt with which society regards men of our kind, we offered each other security as well. I greatly appreciated that. I have thought too little of it in recent years, when we grew somewhat apart.

“Maybe it was love of a sort, but after all, he was not of my class. And he always resented my resistance to teaching him to become a true, practical magician. In my opinion, as you know, magic is a gentleman’s profession, and much though I liked and depended on Childermass, one could by no stretch of the imagination consider him a gentleman.”

Strange frowned slightly as he listened to all this, as if not quite sure whether he had received a clear answer to his question. He said, “I am sorry to have unwittingly played a part in causing any rift between you and Childermass.”

Norrell nodded in acknowledgement but was only partly listening. Finally, after another internal debate with himself, he forged ahead. “Beyond such obstacles, there was the fact that, at a certain point in our relationship, I came to love someone else. To truly, deeply love that person in a way I had never experienced before.” He frowned and fidgeted, already somewhat regretting having made this admission. He had felt it was unfair to Strange not to admit his love, not if they were to be the only people in the Darkness, trapped together for an indefinite stretch of time. It had occurred to him that Strange might not have wished for Norrell to watch him bathing, had he known how Norrell felt about him. He wondered if he had somewhat taken advantage of the man in an unacceptable way. Now, however, he felt he could not carry through with his confession.

Strange frowned more deeply as he thought briefly and then exclaimed, “Surely not Lascelles!”

“Mr Lascelles! That shallow fellow? No. He was very useful to me and the cause of English magic. I give him credit for that. Thinking back, however, I believe that I overlooked too many of his actions in trying to keep peace with him. He has a forceful personality, quite the opposite of mine. He … didn’t exactly frighten me, but I was always nervous about provoking him into saying something harsh to me. Not that he ever went quite that far, but he was most determined in his opinions. He was also disrespectful to Childermass and even to you. As I said, I should have sent him away long ago, but I was never good at standing up to people like that. And I knew of no one who could take his place. At the very least, I should not have brought him here to Hurtfew when I returned, but he claimed to be conveying to me things that I desperately wanted at the time. And frankly, I was so worried about what you might do to my library and to me, I wanted all the support I could have.”

He knew he was babbling on, trying to distract Jonathan from what he had said about being in love. Jonathan, however, again sat silent, barely attending to him. Abruptly his eyes widened, and he stared over at Norrell, who looked resolutely away. He stood up suddenly and went over to a table where a candle was guttering, lighting a new one before the old could go out and pushing the end of the new one into the hot, soft wax. 

It was a brief task, one he had performed countless times, and he had no further excuse not to turn back to his companion. He did so, trying desperately to think of something else to say, something that would take the conversation in an entirely different direction.

Strange’s breathing had somewhat quickened and he looked Norrell in the eyes. “I hope I am not being too presumptuous in guessing that you might have come to have such feelings toward me.”

Norrell felt a deep blush suffusing his face and hoped Strange would attribute it to the fire and candle light that was their only illumination.

After a tense silence, Strange said, “If you do not wish to speak further of this, sir, I suppose you need not. Yet now that we are in this unavoidable situation, trapped alone together in the Darkness for who knows how long, obviously I cannot help but wonder about your feelings toward me. I shall not be angry or contemptuous, I promise you. We are friends again. If it is true, then I shall feel honoured to have attracted the affection of such a great magician as you.”

Norrell slowly began to wring his hands. Finally he sat down again, took a deep breath and replied, “I said I assumed that what I felt for Childermass was love. That was before I met you. At that point, something came over me, so powerful and wonderful that I finally realised what love is. I am glad to have finally experienced it, even though I realize it can never be returned. Somehow, even though I know it would be better for me if I could force myself to stop loving you, I cannot bear the thought of losing that love. Even if I could magically rid myself of it, I would not give it up.

“Nevertheless, I solemnly assure you that I shall ask nothing untoward of you. I am well aware that you are a married man and no doubt deeply in love with your wife—who is vastly more beautiful and far more charming than I. Moreover, as you say, you have never touched a man in a romantic fashion, and I can hardly expect that your tastes would change at this point, when you are in your late thirties. We are friends again, as you say, and I shall content myself with that.

“Indeed, I treasured your friendship greatly when we worked together, and I missed you very much after our parting. Now our reunion has given me a great happiness. Oh, and I apologize for my suspicions concerning you and Childermass. I am enormously relieved to learn that they were unjust.” He paused. “Romantic jealousy is a dreadful thing, I find. I had never felt such a thing before. The very notion that the two people whom I was fondest of in the world should be intimate behind my back undoubtedly clouded my judgment.”

Strange nodded. “I suppose Childermass was quite jealous over me … assuming he knew how you felt about me.”

Norrell smiled ruefully. “Yes, I could hardly hide it from him. That man sees and understands everything. It hurt him, I know, but at the time it seemed impossible to both of us that I should ever admit my feelings to you. He knew that, and I hope it comforted him. We assumed that we should simply go on as we had for years, though he had to face my enthusiasm for your company on a nearly daily basis before you left for the wars. I was not capable of suppressing it. Being with you was such a joy! Your presence renewed my excitement about magic, which by then I was routinely using for important but often uninteresting projects. Still, there seemed nothing otherwise to threaten his and my relationship, though ultimately Mr Lascelles managed to do so quite effectively.”

A thought occurred to Strange. “Why is Lascelles not with us now? You said he was with you yesterday. What happened to him?”

“I have no idea. I am quite mystified, since he was directly behind me when I was trying to penetrate your labyrinth and to confront you here in the library. He and some of the servants, in fact. Yet at the point when I had finally penetrated the labyrinth, I turned around, and they were no longer there. I was very puzzled and frightened, but I had no time to investigate, for at that point I heard your voice. I realized that I had only to open the door and enter the library. I was still terrified, but the prospect of seeing you again conquered my fears.”

Strange smiled rather smugly. “That night, after I removed your labyrinth, I set up mine in such a way that in order to navigate it successfully you would have needed at one or two points to walk through solid walls. I didn’t think you could do so, but you must have. That would certainly have stopped the others.”

Norrell stared at him, thinking back to the night before and when he might have done such a thing. “Did I? I had no idea. My eyes were closed, of course, to help me feel my way through the magic. No wonder Mr Lascelles and the others disappeared! As I said at the time, yours was a very effective labyrinth. I believe that no-one except me could have penetrated it. We must sit down at some point and explain in more detail just how we managed to formulate our respective spells. You did very well in what must have been a short time, especially given that you knew nothing about the layout of Hurtfew when you arrived.”

Strange chuckled.

Norrell looked at him curiously. “What is so amusing, Mr Strange?” 

“Oh, if you don’t mind my saying so, it just seems odd that at one moment we could be discussing your most intimate desires and affections and the next waxing enthusiastic about the designs of labyrinths! I think it bodes well for our time together here in the Darkness. And I think that as we begin to work systematically together, the awkwardness of my inability to return your love will probably diminish. As I said, in Venice, when Miss Greysteel learned that my wife was alive, she understood that I could not reciprocate her love, and yet she continued to help me and remained my friend. I think that friendship, at least some friendships, can be just as strong and important as romantic love, and I hope I can be as dear a friend to you as you are to me. Not just here in the Darkness, where we are forced to be together, but also later, when we are able to leave it. I would dread going back to our former antagonism.”

“Oh, Mr Strange, I feel the same! After what we suffered and accomplished last night, I cannot imagine our ever losing our friendship. Thank you for being so understanding. Most men would become indignant or angry if another man told them what I have admitted to you tonight.”

Strange shook his head. “I could not be angry with you. At least, not now that my madness is over, or nearly so. When you entered the library, you expected me to be angry and asked why I was not. At the time I said I probably would be again. I really was just making a feeble attempt at humour. And now I most certainly am not angry with you. As I said, I feel honoured.”

“You are very kind to say so. Still, you must think me quite unnatural. I hope it will not make it awkward for us to live together.”

“Unnatural? I suppose I would have thought that several years ago. My experiences during the war changed me in that, as in so many other ways. I saw how some of the men turned to each other to satisfy their desires, simply because they had no alternative. I could not really blame them—nor consider them unnatural, really. They were splendid fellows on the whole. I must admit that on a few occasions I received, um, overtures of that sort from some of the officers.”

“I am not surprised, Mr Strange. You really are quite handsome and sociable.”

“Thank you, Mr Norrell. Well, that led me to consider the idea, rather in the abstract, since I had no serious intention of accepting those overtures. For a start, I wasn’t particularly tempted. It all seemed so casual and furtive. Moreover, what little I had heard about such exchanges between men did not make it sound very pleasant. Then there was also Arabella. I did not want to be unfaithful to her, even during a long separation.”

Norrell smiled softly. “I am glad to know that at least you do not condemn such behaviour. Well, I’m sure we have much more to tell each other, but I am exhausted. We have a great deal to do in the coming days.” He looked around the library, dimly visible in the flickering firelight. “Among other things, I really must make a start on putting the books back in order. They will, after all, be vital in trying to discover how to end our own particular enchantment.” He looked uncertainly at Strange. “That is, if we do truly wish to dispel the Darkness.”

Strange did not look as startled by Norrell’s last statement as Norrell had expected. “You have been thinking about that archway and why John Uskglass might have placed it there.”

“Exactly. It is, after all, quite odd that he did not free us from the Fairy’s curse at the same time that he apparently caused Lady Pole and Mrs Strange to escape their enchantment. He left us here and put the archway at the entrance to the Darkness, almost as if he were marking the area covered by the Black Tower as his own.”

“Yes. If he helped us with the spells last night, it would seem unlikely that he intended to imprison us here as a punishment, the way the Fairy did when he cast the curse upon me. But what in the world might he intend for us? Well, I too am exhausted and cannot discuss it further tonight, but we should ponder that question.”


	3. Mr Norrell writes to Lady Pole, with the Help of Mr Strange

THE EVENING OF THE FIRST DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT

Once alone in his bedroom, Norrell slowly took off his wig and struggled into his night clothes and cap. He felt a great deal relieved at Strange’s friendly acceptance of the fact that Norrell was in love with him. Their mutual assurances of lasting friendship profoundly delighted him, and he savoured the things that Strange had said to him.

He was always fastidious about cleaning his mouth, and he carefully mixed a portion of toothpowder into a paste before brushing his teeth. He had an extra, unused brush and set it out to offer to Strange in the morning.

Having settled into bed, however, Norrell’s thoughts turned to Childermass. He was desolated at learning of how unjustly he had treated the man. If only he had told Childermass about the claims Lascelles had made about him and Strange and allowed him to tell his side of the story! He knew that he had been far too secretive with both Childermass and Strange. That very evening, he had been terrified of admitting his love to Strange, and yet the result had made him so happy. There were more secrets to be revealed, secrets that would undoubtedly meet with a far less pleasant reaction, but those could wait. 

Despite Norrell’s exhaustion, he lay awake, thinking how much he missed Childermass. He was not used to sleeping alone. He supposed it was unkind to wish that he had chosen to send Lascelles away instead, since in that case Childermass might have been trapped here in the Darkness along with Norrell and Strange. After all, he was an “English magician” of sorts, and clearly the vague wording of the Fairy’s curse, though it had been directed against Strange, had applied to him as well, trapping them both in the Darkness. It might well apply to Childermass. If they could establish a way to communicate with the outside world, he would have to write to warn him against trying to reach Hurtfew—as well as to apologize.

Still, he could not help wishing that Childermass was there with him, to share the passion that had been so important to both of them. To keep him company in bed and to work with him again in the library. He felt himself hardening at the thought, and tired though he was, he stroked himself quickly to climax. It was far less satisfying than the more vigorous activities he had shared with Childermass, but from now on it would have to do.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

THE SECOND DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT

After breakfast Norrell and Strange went out to check whether their letter had been discovered. As they suspected, it had not been. It was probably in too inconspicuous a place and too close to the Darkness. They spent nearly two hours walking about further from the house and fastening the copies of the same letter in more conspicuous places where people were likely to pass by: beside roads and on gates and stiles in the fences and hedgerows of fields with animals grazing in them. Each letter had a guinea coin attached, along with a note asking the finder to see that the letter was delivered or posted to the mayor of Great Ouseburn.

Returning to the library, they decided that they had done as much as they could to improve their situation until they had received some sort of indication from the outside world that there were people ready to help them. In the meantime, they would tackle the chaotic state of the library.

Norrell began picking up books from the floor, tutting occasionally at the damage done to some of them and carefully setting these aside for repair. Gradually he cleared an area beside the large worktable that occupied the center of the room. Suddenly his eye lit upon his silver basin, still holding the water that he and Strange had fetched from the river for their spells on the night of the disenchantment. His eyes widened, and he gasped, sitting down with a thump in the chair he had occupied when locating Lady Pole and Mrs Strange.

He stared at the bowl, beginning to tremble and breathe heavily, an anguished look on his face. His thoughts had been so occupied with the delight he felt in being reunited with Strange and with the efforts they were devoting to making life in the Darkness feasible that he had not thought about Lady Pole, but now the reminder of her horrified him. He started when Strange suddenly spoke.

“Mr Norrell, what on earth is wrong? Have some of the books been damaged beyond repair?”

“Lady Pole!” Norrell said, turning to look at Strange. “It just occurred to me. She has escaped her enchantment, which presumably means that she is now free to tell any one she wishes about what happened to her. Of course, she would blame me in the harshest of terms. She could tell her husband, other government officials, her friends, even the newspapers! It would be a disaster for English magic and for me! Assuming that we eventually escape the Darkness, I might wish to return to London, or at least to be able to do useful magic for England. But my reputation would be ruined. No one would employ me, no one would speak to me!” He paused. “By the way, I know that you are aware of the magic I employed when I resurrected Lady Pole.”

Strange frowned in puzzlement. “Yes, I am aware of it, but how did you come to know that, sir?”

Norrell hesitated again. “I … that is, your brother-in-law showed me some letters you had written to him. He wanted advice, you see. In one of them, you mentioned what I had done.”

“Oh, I see. Well, I doubt Henry got much useful advice from you, given how you and I felt about each other at the time, but that is neither here nor there. As to Lady Pole, that is a problem, or at least, it could be.”

Norrell stood up, wringing his hands and looking around. “What a time for my library to be in this chaotic state! I know there are several muffling spells that might be possible candidates. Some are quite ancient and had ceased to work, but now that magic has returned, they would most likely be viable again. Can you think of any that you would recommend, Mr Strange?”

“You propose to silence Lady Pole by magic?” Strange’s tone was doubtful.

“Yes! Surely such a thing would be possible.”

“No question. I wonder, though, if you should do something so clearly calculated to make her even angrier with you than she is now.”

“But I MUST! I cannot let her disgrace me. I would not do as the Fairy did and force her to speak nonsense, or apparent nonsense, when she tries to tell someone about what I did. I could … perhaps just cause her talk to be diverted into a harmless subject. Dresses or hats or something that a lady would naturally discuss. No one would think her mad. She could live her life as she liked, with that one exception, and no one need notice. Or perhaps a spell of forgetfulness would be better.”

Strange frowned again. “Perhaps, though either way, it would need an extraordinarily complex spell, I should think. And if you tried silencing her, there would probably need to be another to prevent her writing anything on the subject. But really, sir, I think there is an easier and, if I may mention it, more honourable way of dealing with Lady Pole.”

Norrell stared at him hopefully. “Yes? What do you have in mind, Mr Strange?”

“I would advise simply writing her a letter. We hope to have mail service reinstated within a few days. You could sincerely apologize for your mistake. No, wait, hear me out! I believe that if you could convince her of your deep regret over what you did, she might find it in her heart to forgive you, or at least to keep your secret. You could assure her that you quickly realized your mistake and never tried anything of the sort since and never will again.”

Norrell had lost his hopeful expression and listened to him with a deepening skepticism. Reluctantly he replied, “Possibly. I suppose I could tell her that I summoned the Fairy again and tried to undo her enchantment—to no avail, of course.”

Strange looked startled. “Did you really do that?”

Norrell remembered his second conversation with the Fairy and blushed to think how he had said he had no concern for Lady Pole’s happiness and only wished to make Sir Walter go on supporting his efforts to use magic for the good of the nation. That part he knew he could never confess to Mr Strange. “Yes. It was after some signs of Lady Pole’s supposed madness began to manifest themselves. I realized what had happened, so I summoned him and accused him of cheating me. I had said he might have half her life, but I assumed that meant the second half of the very long span of years that we agreed upon for her. I had no idea he intended to spirit her away in twelve-hour periods, at night. It was very foolish of me, I know, not to suspect what he intended, but I assure you, conversing with him was an experience that severely affected my ability to think rationally. Oddly enough, even during that second meeting, he still wanted me to take him as my fairy servant, but of course I refused. More abductions, more tricks … it was unthinkable.”

“Have you ever seen him since?”

“Never. It was pointless to summon him again, and at any rate, he threatened me and frightened me very much at the end of that second conversation.” He winced at the memory of it.

“I can imagine. He is, or was, a terrifying being. To return to the point, though, do you agree that writing such a letter would be the right way to proceed?”

“Do you really think she could possibly forgive me? After all, she hates me so much that she tried to kill me!”

“True. But of course, that was while she was still in the enchantment and probably felt desperate and trapped and hopeless. Now that she is safe, perhaps she would be more inclined to accept an apology.”

Norrell was dubious, but he said, “I suppose we could try it. I wonder, though, if it will be too late. If she has already gone back to London, she might have revealed my secret. I should find out exactly where in Yorkshire she is, if she has not left yet. Childermass mentioned to me that the establishment where she was put is not all that distant from Hurtfew. Would you be so kind as to fetch me some river water?”

Strange murmured, “Of course,” and went out carrying the silver basin and a lamp.

As Norrell waited, he pondered whether an apology to Lady Pole could possibly have its hoped-for effect. It seemed so unlikely, and yet Mr Strange knew more about such things than he did. He could not recall any occasion upon which he had apologized for anything, apart from frequently saying a brief, polite “I beg your pardon.” The things he had done that had warranted his apologizing had all been kept secret up to now. He also owed Mr Strange apologies for other things that he had done, and he dreaded confessing them. Not because he felt too proud to ask forgiveness but because he was afraid his friend would not be able to pardon his actions. He had to admit to himself, however, that secrecy had not in the long run done him much good.

Strange soon returned and placed the basin on the central work-table. Norrell began drawing quadrants on the surface of the water. Knowing that he could start with Yorkshire made the process simpler. To his relief, he immediately saw the dot of light that signified Lady Pole. Continuing the process, he narrowed the location down to a place called Starecross Hall in the village of Starecross, about twenty miles north of Hurtfew.

Norrell stood away from the basin with a sigh of relief. “She has not set out for London yet.”

Strange smiled at him. “It is rather soon, after all. Perhaps news of the change in her Ladyship’s health has been sent to Sir Walter. Lady Pole may be freed from constraint but still living at the asylum while awaiting the carriage from London to take her home. In which case, if we are able to send a letter as soon as tomorrow or the next day, she might find it waiting for her when she reaches home.”

Norrell said fretfully, “But surely Sir Walter would wish to go and fetch her himself. In which case she might tell him in the carriage on the way to London.”

“Perhaps we should send two copies, one to Starecross Hall and one to her Harley-street house.”

“I suppose so. All this, of course, assumes that we manage to contact the outside world and arrange for mail service.”

Strange replied reassuringly, “Well, we left so many copies of our letter that I am hopeful that at least one will be found and delivered. With the best possible luck we could send your letter to Lady Pole the day after tomorrow.”

Norrell was upset. “That seems such a long time. Surely she will have told someone by the time she receives it.”

Strange shook his head. “Maybe, but I still think it is the best option.”

Norrell looked around. “There is one thing that I can try. I need a small mirror and some dead things. I keep such a mirror in the stationery cabinet.”

Strange went to fetch it, and Norrell crossed to the fireplace and plucked several strands from the small hearth-broom. They met back at the central table and arranged the objects on the table, with the broom-strands on either side of the mirror.

Strange frowned. “Sir, are you proposing to cast a spell to see Lady Pole?”

“Yes, naturally.”

“Is this a common spell?”

“I’m sure there are several spells for seeing someone from afar, but I generally use one of my own composition.”

“Is it by any chance called ‘One Spell for seeing what My Enemy is doing presently’?”

Norrell stared at him curiously. He did not recall having taught Mr Strange that particular spell.

“Well, I have used that name for one variant of the basic spell. I also have had occasions where I needed to see someone from afar who is not an enemy.” He sighed. “I am not sure whether Lady Pole is my enemy or not, though she no doubt thinks of me as hers.”

“I only ask, sir, because years ago I bought such a spell from Vinculus when he accosted me in a Shropshire field and told me that I was a magician. I tested whether his claim was true by casting that spell, and it worked! But how did he get it?”

Norrell looked at him in astonishment and thought for a moment. “I gave Childermass a copy of that spell to use in forcing Vinculus to leave London. He did not need it, so I had supposed that he destroyed it.”

“Or Vinculus picked his pocket.”

Norrell did not wish to reveal Childermass’ past as a pickpocket, so he did not comment. Could a pickpocket have his own pocket picked? He supposed so. Vinculus, after all, had been a thief and a scoundrel all his life and presumably was more experienced.

Aloud he said with a smile, “So apparently my spell ended up coincidentally being your initiation into the performance of magic! Well, perhaps not so coincidentally. After all, Vinculus’ prophecy about the two magicians suggested that there was some connection between them.”

Strange grinned back at him. “Yes, I, too, doubt that it was coincidence. It was, after all, the apparent prophet of the Raven King himself that conveyed the spell from you to me. Fate. Destiny. We were linked before we even knew of each other’s existence.”

Norrell nodded. “Well, I shall cast it now and hope for an equally propitious outcome.”

He recited the spell in a murmur. They both leaned over and saw Lady Pole in a large, simply furnished but pleasant room. She was taking tea at a small table, along with two men seated opposite her.

Norrell peered more closely and exclaimed, “Dear Lord, she’s with Mr Segundus and Mr Honeyfoot! What in the world …?” He thought for a moment. “It must have been Childermass. When I told him to order those two not to establish a school of magic, he said he would try to help them set up some other sort of business in its place. He must have decided that Lady Pole’s commitment to an asylum would give them a new opportunity and recommended them to Sir Walter. Yes, Starecross Hall was the name of the place where the school was to be founded. Well, this is even worse! Those two have no reason to love me, that is certain, and they would take any opportunity to besmirch my name. Oh, it’s hopeless, trying to persuade her to keep silent about my mistake.”

“Not necessarily. I doubt that those two would reveal anything that Lady Pole told them unless they had her permission. Whatever she tells them is surely in confidence. There is still hope.”

“Perhaps. Well, if I am to write her a letter, I should do so now. That way it would be ready to be sent as soon as we re-establish postal pick-up and delivery. Would you help me to write it? It’s not that I do not know what to say. It’s how to say it. You know how to speak to ladies, after all. In fact, perhaps you could send her a letter as well. Surely Lady Pole is curious about what became of Mrs Strange when the disenchantment occurred. You could reassure her about that. That would at least put her in a better mood.”

“You’re right. That’s a very good idea. And I could tell her about our spells and how you helped me to free her and Bell. That news, in combination with your apology, might convince her to keep your secret.”

“Oh, yes! That’s also a very good idea. Thank you, Mr Strange.”

They looked again at the silent image of Lady Pole and her companions. 

“She looks quite sad,” remarked Strange.

“Possibly you are correct and she is worrying about Mrs Strange.”

“Yes, that would make sense. They are close friends and of course had been through quite an ordeal together. And since I shall write to Bell, too, I can reassure her that Lady Pole is well and that we shall contact her and inform her of Bell’s safety.”

Norrell frowned. “Where shall we send the letter? To Starecross Hall or Harley-street? Or both?

“Well, presumably when we have established the means to send it, you can cast the same spell and determine where she is at that point.”

“Yes, of course. Well, um, shall we?”

Norrell went to sit at his desk and pulled some low-quality paper on which to draft the letter from his desk drawer. Strange hovered nearby.

Norrell thought for a moment and began to write. “Uh, My dear Lady Pole, I owe you a profound apology for the results of the spell that was cast—ˮ

“No, no, you must introduce the topic more thoroughly before coming to that point. I should think the beginning … Well, allow me.”

Norrell gladly stood and moved aside so that Strange could sit in his place. He crossed out what Norrell had written and started afresh. He wrote for several minutes while Norrell paced, returning at intervals to look over his shoulder. Finally Strange put down the pen and read aloud what he had written.

My dear Lady Pole,

You may already have heard that Mr Strange and I have been imprisoned in a great Pillar of Darkness by means of a curse cast by the same Fairy whose enchantment has tormented you these several years. Indeed, you were present in the ballroom at Lost-hope until just before the moment when that spell was cast.

The other day, by magical means, we discovered that at last you had been released from your enchantment, along with Mrs Strange. Mr Strange was profoundly relieved at learning of his wife’s freedom, but I believe I was no less so at learning the same of yours.

Believe me, dear lady, I have been greatly distressed over these past years at knowing of your suffering under the spell that I so foolishly agreed to when I was attempting to bring you back to life. I assure you, the Fairy deceived me about the terms of our agreement, and I did not intend that you should be spirited away every night to the tedious round of fairy revels that I gather you endured. 

I certainly was at fault for allowing myself to be so deceived, however, and I offer you my most profound apology for my part in causing you to suffer the conditions under which you were forced to live half your life.

I did attempt to convince the Fairy to alter his conditions, summoning him a second time after I learned of my error. My initial desire, of course, had been to return you to your heartbroken fiancé, and I had little envisioned what the outcome would be. Naturally when I confronted him again, the Fairy was angry and did not agree to my demands. You know better than I do what a tyrant he was, and you can well understand how impossible it was for me to deal with him.

After that, I turned my full attention to performing magical spells that could help in the war against the French. I believe that my efforts had a considerable positive effect upon the outcome.

I continued, of course, to hope that in some fashion you might be freed from your enchantment. It was not, however, until I was re-united with Mr Strange here at Hurtfew Abbey in the Darkness that I had the opportunity to try again to free you. He and I performed spells that we believe helped to defeat the Fairy and to free you and Mrs Strange. But I shall leave it to Mr Strange to describe these to you in the letter he will enclose with mine.

I assure you, I was mightily relieved and delighted to discover that you and Mrs Strange had been freed from the Fairy. Nevertheless, I acknowledge that such freedom can hardly make up for your years of suffering, and I again express to you my regret for having helped create your unfortunate situation. 

Wishing you all the best, I remain your servant,  
Gilbert Norrell

Norrell nodded at intervals. When Strange had finished, he said, “Thank you, Mr Strange! That is better expressed by far than anything I could have written. I wonder though, might it help for us to say something about my meeting with the young Miss Wintertowne, on the occasion when I first visited Sir Walter concerning my ambitions for using English magic to aid in the war effort?”

“Oh, you met her before her death?”

“Yes, shortly before. I remember feeling very sorry for her, as she was clearly quite ill and yet Sir Walter and her mother both appeared determined not to take note of her condition. It seemed very odd.”

Strange stared at him. “That was kind of you, sir. From what I understand of the situation at the time, Sir Walter and Mrs Wintertowne both wanted the marriage to take place, for different reasons of their own, of course. Possibly they simply could not admit to themselves or each other that the young lady’s poor health made that marriage somewhat unlikely. Well, I think any details of your personal interactions with the lady before you summoned the Fairy on that fateful night could only help your case with her. If you like, you could just tell me what happened between you and I could add it to the letter.” He hesitated. “Don’t think of it as writing to her. Just relate to me what you remember.”

“All right. Well, when I went to visit Sir Walter, Miss Wintertowne was lying on a sopha apart from the rest of us, that is, Sir Walter, Mrs Wintertowne and me. Indeed, I did not see her until she began coughing. I was quite startled to realize that there was a fourth person in the room. It was then that I was told she was to marry Sir Walter in ten days’ time. 

“The young lady had some sort of disagreement with her mother about a magician whom the latter had known in her youth. It made little sense to me. But then Miss Wintertowne expressed interest in magicians. I remember that she said, ‘We must have magicians,” and she seemed to believe that that was because magicians could interpret the history of England, and particularly of the North and of the Raven King. I could not entirely approve of that opinion, of course, and yet she seemed a rather remarkable young lady, interested in history rather than in frivolous novels.

“I had even hoped that the conversation would go on, but poor Miss Wintertowne was taken with an even worse coughing fit. She seemed to be in pain and quite weak. I felt sorry for her, as I said, and was surprized that neither Sir Walter nor Mrs Wintertowne offered to bring her something or help her to bed. I’m often ill myself, and I thought at the time that being in bed would be the best thing for her. I rather wondered when I heard of her death whether they might have done something that could have saved her. At any rate, it was at that point that Sir Walter told me that magic was not respectable and dismissed me.”

Strange had been taking notes as quickly as he could and finally looked up. “And that was the only time you saw her before her death?”

“Yes, but I saw her again before the supposed madness—that is, the symptoms of her enchantment—became manifest. It was at a grand dinner-party at Sir Walter’s home. I sat at Lady Pole’s right, and she expressed considerable interest in my work and a hope that there might be found another magician who could help me with it. I think possibly at that point the Fairy had not begun spiriting her away by night, and so Lady Pole still had a favourable impression of me and my magic. At the time, of course, I had no desire to work with another magician, and yet she said that she thought I must be lonely. I did not believe that I was, and yet she proved to be right. When you came to me, I knew that I had indeed been lonely and wanted the company of another magician—though not just any magician, of course!” he added with a fond smile.

Strange had again been scribbling down a sketchy version of what Norrell said. “And the next time you saw her?”

“Alas, that was after she had begun to exhibit signs of what appeared to be madness. I was appalled by the change in her. I immediately went home and summoned the Fairy again and … well, as I said, it was a terrifying encounter and clearly it was impossible to change Lady Pole’s situation. I told Sir Walter that magic could not cure madness. I truly believe that, by the way. In all my reading about magic, I have never seen a reference to such a thing. That is why I made no effort to help the unfortunate King George. As to Lady Pole, however, I knew that what plagued her was not madness. I simply agreed with Sir Walter’s assumption that she was mad because I could not explain the truth to him. At any rate, the only time I saw her after that was when she tried to kill me.”

Strange nodded. “Thank you, sir. I am glad to learn all that. I shall compose some extra passages for the letter that can convey to Lady Pole both your liking for her in your early encounters and your continued concern for her once the enchantment overtook her life.”

“I hope so. I must say, I do not know much about women, and I do not ordinarily care much for their company. Nevertheless, I did quite like her when we first met. At least, I felt sympathy for her. Later she was kind to me. I came to fear her, or I should say, not her so much as the idea that the truth about her situation could do me so much damage. I would be very happy to have her forgive me, even though I fear you are being too optimistic in believing that such a thing is possible. Well, I shall let you get on with it.”

Strange sat for a while writing up Norrell’s stories of his meetings with Lady Pole and inserting them appropriately into the draft of the letter. He was satisfied with them, feeling that they might recall to the lady a happier time when she was friendly to Norrell. Finally he went over the revised letter with the other magician. They made some minor changes, and then Norrell copied the whole onto two pieces of his embossed stationery in his neat, small handwriting.

Strange began to draft his own letter to Lady Pole, and he went on doing so after Norrell had finished his own. Norrell resumed his sorting of the books, though he could not entirely keep his mind on his task. Having thought back over his early conversations with Lady Pole, he found it somewhat more plausible that Strange would prove right and that she could forgive him. Yet he also recalled the look of desperate hatred in her eyes as she had strode toward him in Hanover-square, holding out the pistol with which she hoped to end his life. Was it not more plausible that such hatred had forever wiped out any possibility of her feeling even the slightest forgiveness for him?


	4. The Two Magicians contact the outside World and contemplate the Future

THE THIRD DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT

The next day was again full of activity, but Norrell could barely keep his mind on all the tasks they needed to accomplish. He would frequently set down the books he was sorting and pace, or stand at a window and look up at the strange stars in the dark sky. At such times Strange paused to look at him sympathetically.

They worked in the library until early afternoon. They then walked out to the places where they had left the copies of the letters and found that some of them had disappeared. At least one of those must have been found by a farmer who had been late in going home or very early in rising, for about ninety minutes later when they returned to the archway at the edge of the darkness, there was a letter fastened to it. 

Strange took it down. “I’ll warrant that it was not there when we left. It must have been brought here when we were off in the area behind the house and the archway was in sunshine.” Norrell held up the lamp so that Strange could read it. “It’s from the mayor of Great Ouseburn. Now perhaps we shall make some real progress in returning Hurtfew Abbey to some semblance of normality, despite the Darkness!” 

They walked to the house and took the letter into the library to read it. Norrell was shivering from the dank, chilly February air and built up the fire to sit beside as he read. Strange paced in excited anticipation.

“Good news, Mr Strange! His Honour has agreed to help us. He proposes that deliveries of the goods we order be left outside the archway in the late morning, by noon at the latest, each day, with bills attached. We are to set up a mail box in the same place, with pick-ups and deliveries at around ten in the morning. The merchants have requested that we leave payment of their bills and lists of further orders in the same box on the following day by noon. Apparently they will arrange amongst themselves that those who make the trip out here with their goods on any given day will retrieve the payments and distribute them to those who are not making deliveries. That seems sensible, does it not? It saves them a deal of time and trouble.”

“Indeed. I suppose I should put together some sort of shelter to protect the items from the elements and similarly finding some way of waterproofing the shelter and mailbox. A simple spell for a repelling shield should do the trick. There must be some sort of material in the barn or the cellar which I could use. Does he say when the mail and deliveries will begin?”

“Yes, tomorrow. So all of this must be done quite promptly. If you are willing to take care of the shelter and mail box, I would be most grateful. Even using magic in some phases of the work, I would be most clumsy, I’m afraid, in accomplishing such a task.”

“Of course, sir. Even with a shelter, we should not leave boxes and bags of provisions outside the archway for too long. It would be an invitation to theft. We must find a way of telling when noon has come so that we can fetch that day’s deliveries.”

“That should be simple enough. There is a clock on the steeple of the church in one of the nearby villages. We could use our basins for viewing it from a distance.”

“True. Rather cumbersome, but certainly effective.”

“By the way, the mayor mentions that he will try to find a tailor but obviously cannot guess at this point when such a person might be able to visit us. The mayor will, he says, assure anyone he talks to about our situation that the Darkness is not a threat, however menacing it may look.”

“Excellent! The fact that we are receiving goods and paying promptly for them should make that notion seem believable. Eventually these tradespeople should become more willing to bring things right up to the door. Our success in making contact with the world outside also means we should try as soon as possible to contact some of your servants and try to re-hire them. Perhaps while I am at work you could make a list of the ones we would need. I would think those who had been with you the longest would be the most likely to accept your offer.”

“Yes, and we have also mentioned some additional foodstuffs and other items that we need. I shall make a list of those as well.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

After Strange went out to deal with the mail box and shelter, Norrell’s first thought was to check where Lady Pole was. He decided to delay that, however. He needed to make up the lists so that Strange could check them over. He stifled his curiosity and sat down to his work. He wrote down the foodstuffs Strange had mentioned and then took stock of what supplies of paper and other items for the library were running low. He went to the cellar and took particular note of the number of boxes of candles that were left, as well as oil for the lamps. He estimated as best he could, not being used to paying attention to such things, how much coal for heating and cooking they would need. Wood gathered in the area surrounding Hurtfew would not be adequate without being supplemented by coal, which they had to order brought from York. It was all quite tedious work, and he wished that someone could be found as quickly as possible to take it over.

Once Norrell had dealt with his tasks, he again used his basin to discover where Lady Pole was. He found her on the route south from York to London. He similarly searched for Sir Walter and discovered that the two were together. He wondered if Lady Pole had already told her husband the entire story. All of his efforts to persuade her to remain silent would be for naught. He sat staring into space, imagining the dreadful things that would result if Sir Walter became aware of how he had performed the first action that led to his wife’s “madness” and eventually the flooding of England with uncontrolled magic.

Strange came in from setting up the mail box from materials he had scavenged from the barn and the cellar. They sat down together to check the list of groceries and supplies they wished to order, adding the items that had occurred to them since they had written it. They also made a much shorter list of the servants they needed. They reckoned that they could manage quite easily if they had a cook, a couple of maids, a footman and someone to look after the garden and the animals which they hoped to purchase. Not the horses, since Norrell’s heavy carriage was not of much use to them in their situation, but at least one cow and some pigs and sheep. They agreed that the ideal would be to rehire the same servants, with Lucas as footman, Davey to deal with the animals and kitchen garden, Mrs Greeley to cook for them and the maids, Hannah and Lucy.

Norrell frowned. “It would be quite complicated to contact all of them and negotiate with them by mail.”

“Yes. I wonder if we might entrust the job to Lucas. He always struck me as a clever fellow, and the other servants all liked him very much. He might be more than a footman to us. He could take over some of the tasks that Childermass did for you. If he could come to Hurtfew and see for himself that our situation here is quite safe, he might then visit the others and persuade them to return.” He hesitated. “I think it would be a good idea to offer all of them significant rises in pay. Working in the Darkness will hardly be congenial to them, however safe the place is.”

Norrell nodded. “Yes, that seems reasonable. I would like to think that they feel some loyalty to me, though I realize I was not always the easiest man to work for. Still, I have always been quite generous, I think, in the wages I give my servants. I also doubt that in this area they would be likely to have found new jobs in the past few days. Still, you are right, we must make the prospect attractive to them.”

“Exactly. So I propose that we send an invitation to Lucas, asking him to visit us here at around two o’clock on the day after he receives the letter—which with luck may reach him tomorrow afternoon.”

Strange composed the letter to Lucas, and with some emendations by Norrell, it and the list of supplies were enclosed in a packet addressed to the mayor.

“So, now that all our business correspondence is taken care of, I shall write to Arabella and then take all our momentous letters out to be picked up tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, had you not written to Mrs Strange already?”

“No, I wanted to be able to describe our situation and doings to her as thoroughly as possible up to the present, so I have waited until we have established a way to send out mail. I expect it will take me rather a long time, so you may wish to return to putting the books in order.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++

About an hour later, Strange sealed the letter to his wife and took it, along with the others, out to the new mail-box. When he returned, he fetched some tea and biscuits, and they sat down side by side on the sopha to relax after their labours. 

In his worry, Norrell said very little. At last, as they were finishing their tea, Strange said, “I know it is difficult, Mr Norrell, but you should try to put Lady Pole out of your mind.”

Norrell shook his head. “I simply cannot bear the thought of the shame I should suffer if news of my summoning a Fairy were to become public knowledge.”

He looked so miserable that Strange impulsively slid against the other magician and hugged him tightly against himself. “I truly believe that that will never happen. It will all turn out well, and you will find that you have worried excessively over nothing.”

Norrell sighed and laid the side of his head against Strange’s chest. His worries were so great that he felt no arousal at their closeness. Strange was such a strong and confident man, and in many circumstances he could offer considerable protection. But what could he do in this situation? He said, “I still don’t know how you can say such a thing. Lady Pole surely would want to hurt me in any way she could, and revealing my mistake would surely seem to her a very effective way of doing so.”

Strange paused and then replied, “Try and think the thing through from her viewpoint, though. To take such revenge on you would involve making a sensational revelation that would lead to her being the centre of widespread gossip and newspaper coverage. The eyes of all of London would view her with morbid curiosity, and she could have no peace except by staying at home. Surely the best thing for her would be to claim that she had been the victim of a lengthy illness and was now finally recovered—which in a sense is not far from the truth. By doing so, she would stand a better chance, I think, of being able to re-establish a reasonably normal existence.”

Norrell considered this. “Perhaps. I certainly did not much enjoy being the centre of so much curiosity and attention. But what if her hatred of me is so great that she considers such problems worth risking in order have her revenge? You cannot be certain that she will remain silent.”

Strange shrugged resignedly. “Not absolutely certain, no. Ah, well, if your reputation is blackened out there in the normal world, then we shall hide away here in the Darkness together forever and ignore it.”

Norrell blinked and pulled back slightly to gaze into his face. The firelight showed a smile there, but it was not a teazing one.

“But surely you plan to leave as soon as we can possibly find a way to dispel the Darkness. You would wish to return to Mrs Strange and to … well, I don’t know what you would hope to do then. Resume your life with her, perhaps set yourself up as a practical magician.” 

“I must admit, I do not know myself. After we succeeded in rescuing Bell, I did vaguely assume something of the sort you describe. But our discussions of the Darkness and how it seems to be something bestowed upon us by John Uskglass, not as a curse but as a sort of gift, have given me pause. The thought that he had a purpose in doing so and that he seems in some fashion to be guiding our destinies have led me to find the idea of remaining here more and more attractive. We have spoken of moving the Darkness, along with Hurtfew, to Padua. We have even made some progress toward accomplishing such a thing. What is to stop us from then going any where we wished? From investigating sorts of magic other than English? From having exciting adventures involving kinds of magic that we as yet know nothing of?”

Norrell slid out of Strange’s arms to sit near him. He continued to study Strange’s face in the firelight. It was animated by an enthusiasm that surprised him. “Nothing, I suppose, if we can continue to work out the practicalities of living in the Darkness. Providing the servants would be willing to go with us, for instance. If you wish to stay and pursue such projects … believe me, nothing would please me more! Even so, though, I would prefer to do so without my reputation being destroyed. If we are to make contact with people in other countries—say, to offer our services to assist with dispelling evil enchantments—we would want to be welcomed and trusted.” 

“I wonder. Maybe you have hit upon something! We could perhaps, as you say, do for others what we did the other night for Lady Pole and Arabella. Using our magic to protect and rescue victims of the sort of deception that the Fairy practiced upon us. Perhaps we have been given the Darkness for just such a purpose!”

“That would be very remarkable! It is an exciting prospect, though a very formidable challenge as well. Living in perpetual Darkness, devising spells to move Hurtfew …”

Strange thought for a moment. “Challenging indeed, and yet … at one point, when I was working on the delivery shelter, I thought about eventually leaving the Darkness and returning to the everyday world and felt almost frightened by the prospect. Once we dispelled it, we could never get it back. After all, we have begun to sense that it might offer us tremendous advantages and opportunities. I hesitate to throw those away, especially so soon, before we have thoroughly considered the matter.

“Oh, I don’t exactly enjoy having night twenty-four hours a day. I also thought about how I had enjoyed occasionally wandering with Arabella through the fields in my estate in Shropshire and later alone in Venice, starting in the early morning and watching the sunrise. I so enjoyed that, and how could I face never seeing that soft, growing light and hearing the morning birds start to sing and noting how the landscapes and cityscapes slowly changed colour? 

“It would be such a loss! And yet I also thought, what else might I gain that could in fact be as marvelous? Magic of a sort I have never even imagined! Sights of fantastical creatures unknown outside the pages of books! My life might be as joyous as it was before, or even more so. Naturally the decision would be frightfully difficult to make.”

Norrell felt confused, wondering whether Strange wanted to stay with him or not. He longed for such a thing to happen, to the point where his heart ached. Yet he could not bring himself to ask him outright, and besides, the man seemed to be completely undecided himself. He tried to keep his voice steady as he replied, “It would indeed. Well, I suppose you understand women better than I do. Perhaps you are right about Lady Pole. I shall hope that you are, at any rate, until we receive some reply from her and learn her thoughts.” He paused before concluding, “If you are right, you would not need to stay here, hiding away with me.”

Strange was silent for a time before replying, “In the end, though, my decision as to whether to stay in the Darkness would not depend solely on Lady Pole’s attitude. It would really depend on many factors which, to be frank, puzzle me greatly. I feel pulled in two directions.”

“Mr Strange, I should mention something to you that might have some influence on your decision. You no doubt have noticed that all the clocks in the house have stopped. I have been pondering the question of whether time is passing in the Darkness—that is, in the normal way. No doubt time passes in the sense that change occurs, but I wonder if we are aging. We know that Fairies usually cast very long-term curses on their victims and expect those victims to remain alive to suffer the consequences of those curses. Indeed, there are numerous tales of Christians who have disappeared for decades or longer and eventually reappeared looking exactly the same age as they had been. I suspect that we may not be growing older.”

Strange stared at him. “It had not occurred to me, but of course, you are right, such cases are common, or were. I wonder what the term of the Fairy’s curse is.”

“Oh, it could be a hundred years. It could be a thousand. We should consider whether we wish to remain in such a situation. Of course, we could travel about the world and then eventually, after the passage of some time, perhaps a few decades, try to dispel the Darkness and escape it. In that case, however, Mrs Strange would be considerably older or indeed have passed away. I thought you should be aware of such a consideration.”

“Indeed, thank you!” Mr Strange sat for a moment, looking rather dazed, before replying, “By the way, speaking of the effects of time, in performing my various tasks, I have noted that the grass continues to grow despite days without sunlight.” He pulled some blades of grass from his pocket. They appeared fresh and green in the candlelight. “Apparently the magic allows for vegetation to flourish in the Darkness. That is good to know, since we would naturally wish to keep our kitchen garden tended—perhaps by Davey if he will consent to return.”

“Such a thing should make the Darkness seem a bit less unnatural to the servants.”

Strange nodded. “Yes. If we move about in the Darkness, Hurtfew will not suddenly appear to others, sitting amid a sea of brown in a dead park.”

The pair considered these pieces of information silently for a time. Norrell began again to wonder about Strange’s thoughts on remaining with him in the Darkness. “What did you say on the subject to Mrs Strange in your letter to her? That is, if you don’t mind my asking? I realize that it quite a personal question.”

“Well, of course I told her about my transferring the Darkness to Hurtfew, about your and my reunion and about the spells we cast together. I assured her that we are safe and finding ways to make our life in this very peculiar situation more feasible. I did NOT tell her what I just told you, that I am torn between wanting to leave Darkness and rejoin Bell and wanting to stay with you here in the Darkness. Now that we suspect John Uskglass gave us the Darkness as a gift and we may eventually find a way to travel about in it—it just seems such a grand opportunity … and a huge responsibility as well. In short, I couched my letter to her in fairly neutral terms, saying simply that I want to find a way to see and talk with her. And as we agreed, I told her of how we used the spell with the mirror to see Lady Pole and found her to be in good health and free from the Fairy’s enchantment.”

Norrell took some comfort from this. A few days before, they had both assumed that their main goal was to break the curse which imprisoned them in the Darkness. Now they were already contemplating staying together in it. Certainly that notion held considerable attractions for him, despite its obvious difficulties. Strange was staring into the fire with a perplexed expression. Norrell took the opportunity to admire his beautiful face, longing to lean forward and kiss his cheek and wishing that he might some day, somehow have the right to do so.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

THE FOURTH DAY AFTER THE ENCHANTMENT  
The fourth day saw major changes in their situation, changes for the better. That morning their outgoing mail, including the letters to Lady Pole, Mrs Strange and Lucas, was picked up for the first time. Norrell was still not convinced that his apology would silence Lady Pole, but at least he had done all he could to protect his reputation. Well, all he could without resorting to magic.

Their first incoming letter also arrived. The Mayor politely inquired as to whether they were doing well and assured them that he had contacted a tailor and was attempting to convince him to visit them. He felt hopeful about receiving a positive response.

Although the pair expected the first delivery of the goods they had ordered to be made by noon, they allowed a little extra time for some of the merchants’ conveyances being late. Venturing out at approximately one o’clock, they found quite a few boxes and bags in the small shelter. They had searched the barn and found a small hand-cart, and Strange managed to haul everything to the back of the house in two trips. There Norrell helped him unpack the items and store the foodstuffs away in the pantry and the cellar. He was particularly pleased to see that a generous supply of chocolate was among the groceries. He left Strange planning their evening meal and went back into the library, carrying other items that had been delivered, some of the paper and candles.

Half an hour later, when Strange joined him there, Norrell had laid out the bills for the day’s deliveries and was counting out little stacks of coins and a few notes to leave in the mail box the next morning. Strange resumed sorting the fallen books. Glancing over at Norrell occasionally, he became curious about the details of the man’s financial standing. Clearly he was quite rich, but after all, both of them would be living on Norrell’s wealth for an unpredictable length of time. Paying several servants and buying supplies to keep the whole household running would be quite expensive, especially given that they planned to acquire some farm animals. If they actually began to travel around the world, their expenses would almost certainly be considerably greater.

“Mr Norrell, I presume that you have enough money to carry forward our plans, but I have a significant income myself. I could contact my bank and have some money sent. I would hate to have you bear the brunt of all our costs.”

Norrell waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, that’s not necessary. I have thousands of guineas securely hidden away here in the house—guarded by a particularly convoluted labyrinth, of course, and there is much more in the bank in York. My lands extend for miles in every direction, and the rentals from the tenants would still be going into my account. Plus there is all the money I earned from the government with my magic during the war. Not that I particularly needed that income, but it seemed only fair that, since I had to maintain a second house, I should be making something toward its upkeep. That money has accumulated in a bank in London, and once the Hanover-square house is sold, there will be that as well. So you need not worry.”

Strange had known that his friend was considered quite wealthy, but he had not realized how very substantial his fortune was. So, as Norrell had suggested, he quit worrying about the subject. He opened one of the books to determine its title and place it on the proper shelf, but he immediately became intrigued by the description on the title-page. He sat down on a small library stool and started to read. Soon he had completely forgotten the task at hand.

At the same time, Norrell paused in his bill-paying and sat staring into space. Finally he said, “Now that we can communicate with the outer world, I think it would be wise for me to make out a will. I should have done so before, but really, I never found anyone who could possibly take over the estate and particularly the library. My only relative is a cousin who with my help became quite wealthy through investing money obtained from me, so I hardly need worry about providing for him—and besides, as a businessman, he has no interest in magic.” 

Strange looked up from his book, curious as to why Norrell had brought up the subject.

Norrell smiled at him. “But now that you and I are reconciled and will be working together in some fashion or another for the rest of our lives, I have someone who could take over Hurtfew and keep the library together and continue to add to it. I shall make some smaller bequests—primarily to Childermass, if I can locate him, and lesser amounts to the other servants—but beyond those I shall leave the entire estate to you.”

Strange’s jaw dropped. Finally he managed to ask, “Do you really wish to take such a major step, sir? Have you considered carefully?”

Norrell replied simply, “To whom else could I leave it? I am the first magician, and you are the second. There is no third, at least, none on our level, and there is thus very little to consider in making such a decision. That is only logical.”

“Even so, sir, I am quite overwhelmed at the idea!”

Norrell frowned thoughtfully. “I have also been thinking … I do not wish to lose your companionship, even if we do decide to dispel the Darkness and manage to achieve that goal. Shropshire is so far away, and so is London. Were you to live in one of your houses, we would not see each other often, despite the best of intentions. Especially if you and Mrs Strange were to have a child. I do not know much about children, but I would imagine that when they are young, they demand so much attention that their parents are quite restricted in their ability to travel.” He paused, wearing a worried little frown.

Strange looked at him inquiringly.

“It did occur to me that possibly if we dispel the Darkness you and Mrs Strange would care to come and live with me here at Hurtfew. You may have noticed that the entire east wing of the house is essentially closed off. Even when I was living here before the move to London I had need of relatively few of the rooms. You and your wife could occupy as large a portion of that area as you wished and thus have considerable privacy—almost as if you were living in a neighbouring house. You would enjoy the use of at least some of the servants and could hire some of your own. You could have a child and naturally raise him to be a master magician. We would establish Hurtfew as a great centre for magical research, passed down through generations of the Strange family, a renowned dynasty of skilled magicians.”

Strange still seemed startled at the prospect, but he interjected with a chuckle, “What if our child turned out to be a girl?”

Norrell stared at him in surprise and faint disapproval. “Well … as you know, I do not believe that women can or should be trained as magicians, but … I suppose that such an extraordinary man as yourself, Mr Strange, could perhaps father a quite unusual girl who could follow in your footsteps. But we can hope that it would not come to that. And this is all so far quite hypothetical.”

Strange chuckled again but then grew serious. “The generosity behind your idea is astonishing, sir! Given that you love me, it goes beyond kindness for you to be willing to have Arabella come to live with us. Whether or not such a thing ever comes to pass, I cannot thank you enough for your willingness to share your home and your fortune.”

Norrell blushed slightly. “Oh, well, it’s not entirely generosity. As I said, I simply do not want to be apart from you. I would do nearly anything to prevent that happening. To own the truth, I think of my plan as somewhat selfish. And of course, it solves my quandary about how to preserve the library after my death.”

Strange smiled sadly. “In some ways I think it is quite an attractive plan. It would return us to something like that very idyllic period after we met and I became your pupil. In those days I shared my time quite agreeably between you and Bell, although she came to complain that when I was at home I talked about little but you and my work with you. My thought, though, is that Bell might not wish to live here at Hurtfew. She would no doubt think the house and its surroundings surpassingly lovely, of course, but to be frank, she is not at all fond of you. She never was, I suppose because my studies and work with you took up so very much of my time. Later, I believe Lady Pole led her to distrust you. Her own enchantment can hardly have inclined her to be friendly to you. Perhaps she could forgive you, as I have, but I have my doubts.”

Norrell sighed. “Well, really, the house is quite large, and we could arrange things so that she need see very little of me. We could no doubt somehow devise schedules—for meals and so on—in such a way that she and I would hardly ever meet. I could take my meals in the library and leave the dining room to the two of you. And I should think the fact that Hurtfew would eventually belong to you and to her might make her view the notion more favourably. At any rate, my offer stands, and perhaps you could persuade her to accept it, since it would make you happy.”

“Again, thank you, sir! I shall keep your invitation in mind. After all, though, it is early days yet. We have no idea how either Lady Pole or Bell will react upon receipt of our letters. And if we decide to remain in the Darkness and you are correct in assuming that we will not age, I am not likely to inherit your estate for a very long time.”

“True, but if you lead us into dangerous magical adventures, I might meet with a serious mishap. We should be prepared for such an eventuality. It is much easier to consult my lawyer now than once we are plunged into exotic magic in, oh, say China or Egypt.” He spoke with an amused smile.

“You may smile, sir, but I realize that you are speaking of what might be very real dangers that we could face. Well, it is too early to make some of the decisions that face us. Still, if you sincerely desire for me to take over your estate and library someday, it would be prudent to make your will and other arrangements now. I can only say that I shall strive to care for both as devotedly as you have yourself.”


	5. Mr Norrell writes to Mr Childermass

THE FIFTH DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT

At about two o’clock in the afternoon, a momentous event occurred. The doorbell rang. Having just arrived in the library to begin their afternoon’s work, Strange and Norrell heard its faint ringing and rushed out to receive their first visitor within the Darkness.

As they crossed the large hallway toward the door, Norrell remarked, “I presume this is Lucas, responding to our letter.”

“Yes, either he or some horrible denizen of Faerie come to frighten us,” said Strange, with an exaggerated expression of terror upon his face.

Norrell shot what he intended to be a quelling look at Strange, yet he suspected that it appeared more like fond amusement. As so often happened, he inwardly deplored the fact that he was utterly incapable of resisting the near-perfection of Jonathan (as he now secretly thought of his young friend). True, the other magician needed to learn discipline in his research and spell-casting—but he was so imaginative and daring and talented and amusing and desirable and so very nearly perfect.

He cleared his throat and said, “Oh, Mr Strange, surely if we are in the Raven King’s domain, he would not permit such a being to enter.”

The two stopped before the door looking at each other, briefly savouring the implications of that remark.

Strange smiled and replied softly, “Perhaps he would not.”

Strange opened the door and admitted Lucas, who had had the foresight to bring a small torch with him. He doused it and left it on the gravel walk outside before entering.

The pair greeted him with delight and took him into the drawing-room. They had a long conversation with Lucas about re-hiring him and enlisting his help in persuading others among Norrell’s former servants to return to his employ. Strange mentioned Norrell’s offer of a considerable rise in pay as an inducement for all of them as compensation for working in the Darkness. Upon hearing that he was to be promoted as Norrell’s and Strange’s man of business, at an even higher salary, Lucas was clearly impressed. He said he had regretted leaving Norrell’s service. Being convinced that the Darkness, although not exactly pleasant, offered no danger to him or the others, he agreed to return to work for Norrell and to visit as many of the other servants as he could the next day in the hope of persuading them to do likewise.

Strange escorted him to the door, and they chatted briefly. Lucas mentioned how much easier Norrell would be to work for, now that Drawlight and Lascelles were no longer frequently about the house. He added, “I would miss Mr Childermass, though, sir. I hear he’s somewhere in York. If Mr Norrell would see his way to hiring him again, I think things here would be even better.” 

Strange considered this a good idea and promised to mention it to Norrell. He saw Lucas off and rejoined Norrell in the library. He said, “I think Lucas will be a very great asset to us. If he is convinced that being in the Darkness is safe, I believe he can convince the others to join us.”

“Oh, I hope so! Life here would be so much easier.”

“Lucas brought up the possibility of your re-hiring Childermass, whom he apparently admires quite a bit.” 

“Oh, my good Lord, no! I mentioned to you on the night when we met again that the Fairy had apparently used an imprecise curse against you and hence unintentionally also trapped me in the Darkness. Childermass, though not as expert a magician as you or I, could probably also be caught here as an accidental consequence of the Fairy’s curse.”

“Ah, yes, I suppose so. No, hiring Childermass would be very risky to him. Lucas will be disappointed, but it can’t be helped.”

Norrell nodded. “I had vaguely been intending to write to Childermass as soon as we established postal service. I was distracted by the problem of Lady Pole, but now I certainly must send him a letter warning him not to attempt to enter the Darkness. He might, after all, be curious and try to visit us to find out how we are faring—or indeed, whether either of us is still alive! I shall of course apologize to him for sending him away the other night.”

“Of course. I don’t think that you need any help from me in this case, so I shall leave you to it.”

Strange went back to his work, and Norrell began to draft the letter. It took him a long time, with many pauses. He scratched out paragraphs and started them over, put words and phrases in the margins to be added and finally finished a lengthy draft that satisfied him. 

My Dear Childermass,

Apparently six days ago, after your departure from the library you escaped the environs of Hurtfew before the Pillar of Darkness descended upon it. I trust you are well. As I do not know where you are presently living, I am sending this letter to my lawyer in York in the hope that he can find you. I am eager to hear what you are doing presently.

I owe you a great apology for something terribly unjust that I did to you and which I am afraid can never be remedied. You are all too well aware that Mr Lascelles did not like you. I was aware of it, too, and tried at times to stop the two of you from quarrelling. He was so valuable to me in the promotion of English magic, however, that I allowed him considerable influence when we were at Hanover-square. Too much influence, I realize now.

I am ashamed of what I am about to admit, but you deserve to know what happened during our recent journey back to Hurtfew and the days thereafter. Shortly after your very brave foray onto the Fairy Road and our resumption of our trip, Mr Lascelles claimed that at the time when you investigated Mr Strange’s book illustrations, you and Mr Strange entered into an intimate connection. He said he had set agents to watch you and had full reports to substantiate his claim at his London home.

Inexcusably, I believed him. I should have put the matter to you during those three days at Hurtfew, but I was blinded by an emotion I had never experienced: jealousy at the thought of such a double betrayal. 

I am truly sorry for my mistake and for the wrong I did you. I hope you can forgive me.

I have missed you and could wish that you were here so that I could apologize in person, were it not for a danger that I suspect the Darkness holds for you. The Darkness was cast upon Mr Strange by the same Fairy who enchanted Lady Pole and Mrs Strange. It was directed at him, and yet I became ensnared in it when Mr Strange brought it here to Hurtfew. My suspicion is that the Fairy cast the curse against “the English magician” or some such imprecise locution. (He was in a rage at Mr Strange and apparently did not have time to consider the importance of precision in spell-casting, an importance I have on occasion pointed out to you.)

If I am right, any English magician who came into the Darkness might be unable to leave it. I expect that you might want to visit me here, but reluctantly I must beg you not to do so, as you could well be trapped here with us. I have tried for a long time to deny that you are a magician. In Mr Strange’s opinion, however, England is full of magicians now. I have come to believe him, based on those letters you showed me last month, the ones that detailed several cases of people spontaneously performing magic acts. You were quite right to urge me to take them seriously, and now I do. At present you are a more experienced magician than any other in England, I would wager. (I write ‘in England’ on the assumption that Mr Strange and I are currently in Faerie.)

In fact, powerless as I am here to play any part in the revival of English magic, I have hopes that you might act as a sort of representative for me and for Mr Strange, helping to guide that revival. I shall speak more of that after I explain to you our remarkable deeds after you departed and how they ended the enchantment of Lady Pole and Mrs Strange.

It was shortly after you left that the Darkness settled upon Hurtfew, bringing Mr Strange with it. Remarkably, despite my strong labyrinth spell, he managed to enter the library and cast his own labyrinth around it, against me, of course. As you can imagine, I eventually made my way through it, though I had to admit that it was a very fine labyrinth. He has become a wonderfully powerful magician, not entirely through my tutelage, to be sure, but I am proud to have played a considerable role in his astonishing progress. Indeed, he accomplished his labyrinth with an old spell of mine and improved it with some excellent refinements!

I am happy to say that despite our prior fears that Mr Strange wanted to fight with me and take his revenge over the book, he and I fell into conversation so readily that I was astonished. I could hardly credit that he was not angry. Instead, he wanted my help in the rescue of the enchanted ladies. 

I was taken aback, since Fairy magic is extraordinarily difficult for a Christian to undo, but Mr Strange was undaunted. He wanted to summon John Uskglass himself to aid us! I must admit that Uskglass’ magic would almost certainly work, since “our” Fairy was surely less powerful than he. I was terrified of summoning him, but more practically, I thought that our lack of knowledge of his true name would make any summoning spell ineffective. 

We decided at least to try the spell. You will be interested to know that, at my recommendation we employed Mr Strange’s own spell. That very early one that he used to summon Maria Absalom, if you recall. What a fine spell it was, too, thoroughly reflecting his promise even at that stage of his learning! Naturally I had to revise it, but the core text was his.

The results of that first spell are hard to describe. Essentially it was a chaos of birds, with all of my books turning into ravens. Fortunately, soon they once more became books, though they did not, alas, fly back to their places again! We are still sorting books and clearing up the disorder, including many stray feathers left behind, but soon the library will be as beautiful and orderly as always—though not as bright as it could be on pleasant, sunny days, even with its north-facing windows.

The birds were a sign of Uskglass’ quite forceful reaction to our spell, but he himself did not appear—which was not of much help. I suggested that we back up and draw upon an old spell that I knew, one intended to evoke the powers of nature to join us in welcoming the King back to England. I thought that might incline him to be more forthcoming and actually visit us with a view to aiding our magic.

The result of that spell was worse, in a way. Many strange and eerie visions appeared in all the mirrors, ending with a giant black eye staring at us through a window. Mr Strange thinks it was John Uskglass himself examining us in the form of a giant raven’s eye. I believe that may be true. The odd thing, though, is that our intention was simply to try and speak with him and ask him for help. Yet it seemed instead to have had the effect of breaking the Fairy’s enchantment—the very thing that we were intending to ask him to help us do!

By the way, I wondered later and still wonder whether all those confusing visions were caused by the force of our spell itself ripping apart and dispelling into nothing, with Uskglass revealing a glimpse of himself to show that he had heard us.

At any rate, I checked the locations of Lady Pole, who was by then in Yorkshire (at Starecross Hall, which you must know, since I assume you were responsible for her presence there), and of Mrs Strange, who was in Italy after following a path of escape arranged by Mr Strange. So although we are not quite sure how, our spells worked! My own thought is that the Raven King simply knew our desire and did not bother waiting for us to cast yet another spell but broke the curse, apparently killing the Fairy in the process, and freed the ladies at our desire.

So, I have encountered the Raven King, whom you admire so much, not in human form but as a Force. I must admit that the experience, though terrifying, was thrilling as well. To see the old magic, which I had been reading about for decades, revived and performed by Uskglass himself! Apparently Vinculus’ prophecy of long ago, that the Raven King was my past, present and future was correct, though exactly how this will work out for the future is a mystery. I still am not sure that I trust him, despite his help five days ago. I am perhaps less opposed to the old magic than I was, but I still believe that Fairies are dangerous beings, or at least some of them are—and who can tell the good from the bad?

I must apologize to you for something else, though not nearly as significant as my dismissal of you. On our first day together in the Darkness, I told Mr Strange about your and my intimacy over the years. I hope you do not mind, but I simply had to speak with him about Mr Lascelles’ claims of a relationship between the two of you. I had begun to wonder if he had lied, and I could not face going forward without knowing the truth. Mr Strange denied the claim in terms so strong and indignant that I knew Mr Lascelles had indeed lied. That relieved my mind greatly, though it saddened me to think how I had wronged you. My only consolations are that my dismissing you meant that you were not caught in the Darkness yourself, and that I now have the means to write and tell you of my regret. 

Given what you and I have been to each other for so many years, I should be frank. I am through with secrets, having confessed to all of them. (With one exception, which I shall make to Mr Strange soon: THE BLACK BOOKS publication.) During our conversation, it came out that I am in love with Mr Strange, something I am sure you have long been aware of. I feared that he would think me terribly unnatural, as most men would, and become angry, but he was most kind about the whole thing. So I have one less secret from him. I do not expect him to reciprocate my feelings, but I think we can live and work together in friendship as long as we remain in the Darkness. Which may be for many years, or so we begin to suspect.

Mr Strange’s wish to travel to Padua and speak with his wife led him to conceive the daring plan of traveling in the Darkness and taking Hurtfew with it. Where he goes, I must go, since we are both trapped here. I certainly do not wish to leave Hurtfew, though if we cannot discover a way to take it with us, I would do so temporarily in order to accommodate Mr Strange. In that case, I should certainly wish to return to Hurtfew. Where we would go (other than Padua) remains uncertain. Still, I have been stealing moments to do some research on relevant spells, and I believe travelling in Hurtfew may well be possible. Mr Strange moved a number of buildings, forests and even cities during his wartime service, and he has given me some valuable indications of how such a thing could be done using the Pillar of Darkness.

As to Mr Strange, I cannot tell whether he wishes to remain here with me and possibly travel around in Hurtfew, having what he pictures as adventures in combating evil magic. I consider such a prospect more an opportunity to learn about new, non-English magic. Perhaps it could be both. He thinks about it a good deal, but we have been here together for less than a week, and it is too soon for him to make up his mind. I certainly do not wish for him impulsively to decide he will stay and then regret his choice and leave later. That would make me more miserable than ever. For that reason I am careful to avoid putting pressure on him to make up his mind soon. 

I am sure I wearied your ears with my talk of Mr Strange back in the days in London. Still, the more I am here with him, the more I think of us as two halves of a single being, complementing and completing each other. Could he ever be happy with his wife, I wonder, after what we have accomplished and now discussed as our possible future? It is selfish of me, I know, to wish for him to leave her forever and remain here (if traveling about the world in Hurtfew can be said to be “remaining here”). At the same time, I truly suspect that he would be happier here. He is too deeply committed to magic to be content otherwise. He and I need to talk about magic with each other as much as we need to eat and breathe. I believe he realizes that now, but it is no doubt difficult to make a definitive break with his past life.

Given that Mr Lascelles played such a large role in driving you and me apart, you will no doubt wish to know what happened to him. He was with me until shortly before I penetrated Mr Strange’s labyrinth and reached the library. He and the servants disappeared, apparently because my penetration of the labyrinth involved walking straight through a wall or two! We have thoroughly investigated, and until today, there has been no one but us in the Darkness. This afternoon Lucas became our first visitor in the Darkness. He assures us that the servants left safely that day and mostly have been living with their relatives in the area. He is helping us to contact and re-hire them and establish a semblance of a normal life here.

What became of Mr Lascelles, I do not know. If you ever hear anything about his present whereabouts and activities, I should be curious to learn it. Not that I ever want any contact with him again.

Finally, to your part in the revival of English magic. I have come to admit that with proper training other magicians could learn to direct their spells toward harmless and even helpful ends, as I did. The magic described in those letters that you showed me did involve people being saved from injuries and the like, so I am hopeful that the new magic is benevolent to some degree. Still, there are sure to be malicious people who wish to use magic to wicked ends: theft, seduction, revenge and who knows what! 

You could be of great help, perhaps in founding a school or at least allowing Mr Segundus to achieve his goal of running one. You might also, as my representative, propose again my idea of the revival of the Cinque Dragownes court. Now there will be people who learn thaumaturgic law and thus could run the court in various capacities. For as I say, there are bound to be magical crimes committed, and soon Lord Liverpool will no longer be able to claim that there are no specialized, trained lawyers or judges. With the government so worried about magic, he may take more kindly to my old proposal.

Apart from such activities, you should study magic and become as expert as possible. I am sorry that I am not in a position to invite you to Hurtfew to study in the library. As you know, however, I do own duplicate copies of quite a few of the titles here, and I could arrange to send those to you—at least, the ones I feel to be sound and useful. The others would be a waste of your time and that of your pupils. Moreover, you have become expert in finding magical books in shops, auctions and private collections, and you certainly know many of the important volumes on magic and would recognize them if you run across them. I shall treat this as an expense of your work for me and cover the costs of any volumes you may find. Those which you know that Hurtfew’s library lacks, I would expect you to send to me. By now there are so few such volumes that you would seldom encounter such a thing.

We can correspond further on more specific plans for such activities on your part. For now I offer to set up a regular line of credit at my usual bank in Yorkshire, allowing you to draw enough for your salary and any other expenses you may have—primarily travel, hiring others to assist you, rental of premises and purchase of books. You need only keep receipts for your expenses and present them to my usual banker. My question now is whether you would consider such a position. If you refuse, I should be hard-put to find another magician with your skills and knowledge. I can only urge you to say yes by telling you that I am asking you to something similar to what I myself would do, were I still there. If I have mistrusted you at one crucial moment, I hope my complete trust in you now will somewhat make up for it.

Whether or not you agree to my proposal, I wish to keep in correspondence with you for the foreseeable future and beyond. (So little is foreseeable at this moment!) Mr Strange and I have established regular service with the local postal office, so you need not prepay the postage for your letters, as you did so long ago when you contacted me about the employment I was offering. Looking back, I would imagine that the 3d was quite an investment for you. I suppose that your prepayment impressed me a little, perhaps enough to help me decide that I should speak with you. I do not really know, but I am truly grateful that you came into my life on that rainy day. I hope that despite our separation you will remain a part of it. 

I remain yours truly,  
Gilbert Norrell, Esq.

++++++++++++++++++++++

Late in the afternoon, Norrell copied a neat version of this long missive to send to Childermass. 

When Strange saw Norrell glance over the letter one last time and seal it, he went and stood before his desk. “Shall I start supper then? Are you planning to do some thing more before we eat?”

“I only need to write a cover note to my lawyer, requesting that he search out Childermass, and if he finds him, deliver my letter to him. I have no idea how long it might take him. Childermass would most likely be in York, but he could be elsewhere. He has been with me so long that I have no idea what he might wish to do after I dismissed him. Still, Mr Robinson has many clients and acquaintances, and I’m sure that if anyone can find Childermass, he can. I shan’t be long about writing the note.”

“Fine. I’ll start dinner—something a little more elaborate than usual, now that we have fresh bread and other comestibles. When you’re finished, come and join me, and you can help out by cutting up some thing or peeling some thing—whatever needs to be done.”

“Cutting up bread or vegetables with a knife?” Mr Norrell replied uncertainly.

Strange replied with a teasing grin, “Yes, why not? Just pretend that they are ingredients for a magical spell, and I’m sure you will be as careful and precise as ever we could wish.”

He went out, and Norrell looked after him, smiling. He marveled at how confident Strange could sometimes make him feel. He anticipated with pleasure being able to help the other magician with the dinner preparations. Sighing, he turned his attention to the cover letter to his lawyer.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

THE SIXTH DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT

The next morning, Strange as usual carried the mail out to the box, including the packet to Mr Robinson containing the letter to Childermass and some business documents concerning Mr Norrell's will. After he left the library, Norrell sat for a time at his desk, his gaze abstracted as he stared over at Childermass’ small desk in the corner. He started as Strange re-entered the room, smiling and striding over to the fireplace to warm himself after his walk in the brisk February air.

“Well, Mr Norrell, today could be another turning point for us. Lucas must have set out by now to visit the other servants. If he can persuade them to return, our lives here in the Darkness will be so much easier! I don’t mind cooking, but my talents are so limited in that regard that our meals are already becoming distinctly repetitious.”

“I don’t mind, Mr Strange. The meals you cook quite suit me: simple meats without elaborate sauces, boiled potatoes and vegetables, and now we have cakes and the like for desserts. Still, if you find our diet dull, then we shall hope to have a cook in the house soon, to create more varied meals for us. Besides, cooking takes up a deal of your time which could be better spent here in the library.”

“Well, I shall try to make up for lost time today. I believe we could be finished with our initial rough sorting of the books by dinnertime tonight. We have marked quite a few pages that might contain useful hints for moving Hurtfew about in the Darkness. I am keen to go back to those and read them in more detail.”

“Undoubtedly. And take notes. I think we are making some progress. I also have been setting aside sources that might be useful in devising a spell not to move the Darkness, but to dispel it. I am somewhat less sanguine about finding or creating such a spell, I must admit. Removing a powerful Fairy King’s curse remains a daunting task. Moving it about is bound to be easier.” He watched Strange’s face as closely as he could in the lamplight.

Strange stared at him as he spoke. He thought for a short time before replying, “Moving the Darkness or dispelling it? Which do we really want to do? I must admit, I still feel unable to choose between those options.”

Norrell hesitated before replying, “I hardly think you have overlooked the fact that if we travel in the Darkness, you would be separated from your wife for a long time … perhaps even forever. I presume you do not think she would wish to live here and travel with us, given that you believe she would be reluctant even were the Darkness dispelled.”

“Heavens, no! Bell would hate living in perpetual Darkness. I’m not fond of it myself, but I see its advantages. No, she would be miserable.” He paused. “But then, if we dispel the Darkness and I leave Hurtfew, you would be miserable.”

“Well, you are not obliged to take my feelings into account, as you are with your wife.”

Strange gazed silently at him for a short time. “Perhaps not, but I can’t help thinking about them. I care a great deal about you as well, you know. But now, as to our immediate situation. I believe that until we decide, moving Hurtfew and the Darkness would seem to have the higher priority. After all, as we have said, dispelling the Darkness would be final and irrevocable. Moving it would allow us to do many things. Most urgently, I could speak with Bell. We can always dispel it later, as you have mentioned.”

“Of course. Well then, as you suggest, this evening we can move on to making notes on the more promising books and ultimately composing a spell to allow us to travel via the Darkness. Are we agreed?”

“Agreed!”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

THE EVENING OF THE SIXTH DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT

After dinner, Norrell returned to the library. During the day the pair had indeed managed to complete the sorting of the books, or largely so. Several shelves’ worth of non-magical books had been roughly sorted and piled near the cases where they belonged, with their final replacement on the shelves delayed. The magical books, however, were back in their places, apart from quite a few needing repair and even more that were marked for further perusal.

Norrell examined a few of the latter and took the most promising ones to his desk. He needed more light, since only one of the candles in the branching candlestick on his desk was still aflame. Opening the drawer where he kept new candles, he discovered only two left. These would not last long. He sighed and went back to the kitchen. He hoped to find Strange there, but the man had finished clearing up after the meal and was nowhere to be seen.

Norrell opened a box on the floor next to the cellar door and picked out several candles. Returning to the library, he found it empty as well and wondered where Strange could have gone. It was unusual for him to be absent for long during what they considered working hours. There was so little to do elsewhere in the house. He hoped that his friend has not fallen ill. He resolved that if Strange did not return within the next hour or so, he would go in search of him to make sure that he was well.

He estimated that he had not been taking notes for much more than half an hour when Strange came into the library and wandered about, appearing quite distressed.

Norrell watched him for a few minutes before inquiring, “Mr Strange, is something wrong? Are you feeling poorly?”

Strange turned and looked at him rather blankly for a moment and then moved toward his chair. “Physically I am fine, sir, thank you for asking. But even now that we are safe and have accomplished my goal of freeing my wife, I find that fits of near-despair come upon me, for no apparent reason. I lose all interest in doing anything. Usually they do not last very long, and I have tried not to distress you by revealing them to you. Tonight, though, I feel unable to shake off these gloomy thoughts.”

Norrell set down his pen and stood up anxiously. “Oh, I am so sorry to hear that! Is it a cumulative effect of being in the Darkness, do you think? If so, it would make living here for any length of time very difficult for you. Perhaps we should rethink our goal of possibly staying in the Darkness and traveling together.” His heart sank at the thought.

“No, no. I sometimes long for at least a glimpse of sunshine, but I don’t think that is the cause. I expect these fits of melancholia are a lingering effect of the madness that I so unwisely induced in myself. I am finding it takes a long time to fade away entirely. In my mind I see strange images, things I vaguely remember from that period in Venice, but which make no sense to me now. I am not sure whether they are things that actually happened or strange visions, some of them frightening, others funny in a grotesque way. Dark storms, wandering through narrow, dim streets, pineapples, candles inside people’s heads, swarms of cats. At any rate, they are very disturbing.” 

Norrell was alarmed at the sorts of visions Strange was apparently seeing. He shook his head sadly. “As I have said before, magic cannot cure madness. I do not know what I could do to help you, much as I would like to. Perhaps these fits will gradually cease to distress you, if you can be patient and tolerate them for the time being. If you think talking about them or at least having my company during such periods of melancholia, I would be happy to oblige you.”

Strange looked uncertainly at Norrell before replying, “Might I ask one thing of you?”

“Of course, Mr Strange. Anything I am capable of providing.”

“Would you just … hold me? In your arms, for a while?”

Norrell stared at him, taken aback.

Strange sighed. “It’s just that, it has been so very long since I’ve had any human physical contact. During my madness I simply didn’t think of such things. I was so absorbed in my attempts to see the Fairy whom I was sure I had managed to summon. Now, as the vestiges of my madness slowly leave me, I have begun to crave simple things like touch and affection. Even that brief embrace a few days ago, when I was trying to reassure you about Lady Pole, had a soothing effect on me as well.”

Norrell nodded. “Yes, of course. I can well understand that.” In fact since a child he himself had had little physical contact with others, apart from shaking hands and bumping into people at crowded social affairs, moments he had not found particularly pleasant. Setting aside his secret desires for intimacies with men, he could not remember wishing for affectionate touching, except with Childermass. Still, he knew that others desired such simple contact far more than he did. With Strange the prospect certainly was appealing, even if it led to nothing more. 

It occurred to him that their situation of three days earlier was reversed. He had been terrified, and Strange had comforted him. Now Strange’s distress seemed quite pathetic, and he yearned to provide similar consolation. He said soothingly, “Let us go and sit by the fire.”

Norrell took Strange’s hand, and they walked to sit on the sopha and put their arms around each other. Norrell’s head rested on Strange’s shoulder, and they looked into the fire for a while, not moving.

Strange seemed to relax somewhat as the minutes passed. He said quietly, “Bell used to set such store by cuddling like this. Early on I enjoyed it well enough but did not think it terribly important. During my time in the Peninsula I learned better. I realized how one craves human contact. Often the men would indulge in sport and playful tussling, for the same reason, I suppose. My rank and that of the officers put us above such things. Later, on the day I returned to London, I remember Bell and me sitting in each other’s arms for hours. I felt during those hours that I was returning from the strange, alien world of war to normality. Our situation here is certainly not normal, but in a way I am returning from an alien world of madness to something resembling home.” He came out of his reverie and said, “But I fear this must be frustrating for you.”

Norrell hastened to reassure him. “Oh, do not consider that. As you suggested, such contact need not be connected only with intimacy.”

Maybe so, he thought, but from the beginning he had gradually been hardening. He crossed one leg over the other and hoped that Jonathan would not notice the evidence of his arousal. He longed to retire to his bedroom and deal with that arousal, and at the same time he wished to sit there embracing and being embraced by his friend for as long as Jonathan wanted to do so. He savoured the warmth and scent of him, the hard, broad back, the long, unruly curls brushing against his forehead. Frustrating, yes, but oh, so much better than working beside him and not being able to touch him except in the most fleeting way! Besides, the cuddling seemed to have improved Jonathan’s mood. He had spoken with quiet nostalgia rather than distress.

Norrell felt that he should not be the one to pull away, since Jonathan might think he was unable to hold him without desiring greater intimacy. He might be reluctant to ask for such comfort again. And setting aside the frustration, Norrell did find the contact soothing.

At last Strange pulled back and sighed. “Thank you! Such a simple thing, and yet I feel much calmer. Perhaps, as you say, such bouts of hopelessness will gradually cease.”

“You’re quite welcome. I am happy to have been of any help. We certainly want to banish any traces of your madness!”

Strange rose and returned to his work among the books. Norrell decided not to go to his bedroom at that point but to delay the satisfaction of his desire until he retired for the evening. He returned to his note-taking. Occasionally he looked up at Strange and considered that his expression seemed almost serene. Whenever Strange noticed Norrell’s eyes upon him, he smiled in response.


	6. The Two Magicians become lovers, and Mr Norrell apologizes for THE BLACK LETTERS

THE SEVENTH DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT

The end of the first week in the Darkness marked the point at which life at Hurtfew returned to something resembling normality. As a result of Lucas’ visits and persuasion, a small core of servants arrived. Mrs Greeley had agreed to stay on as cook. Hannah absolutely refused to set foot in the Darkness, but Lucy would work as their maid again, and her cousin Daisy had agreed to take a job alongside her. Lucas assured the two magicians that Davey was also coming back to them, probably the next day. There was a short meeting of the entire group as Strange and Norrell explained some of the odd features of the Darkness and how to cope with them.

The second delivery of mail arrived. A tailor, Mr Westgate, wrote that he would venture into the Darkness to visit them the next day. He would bring a large selection of clothes for Strange to try on. To Strange’s delight, he also had found a shoemaker and a barber to accompany him.

That afternoon more supplies, ordered in anticipation of a larger number of people taking their meals at Hurtfew, arrived. Mrs Greeley and Lucas set about making up further shopping lists, now that those meals could become more varied and elaborate. 

With all the arrangements made, the magicians spent the afternoon in the library, with Strange remarking two or three times over his pleasure at not having to cook dinner yet again.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

THE EVENING OF THE SEVENTH DAY AFTER THE ENCHANTMENT

An hour or so after dinner, Norrell was reading an ancient, heavy book which rested on one of the tall bookstands. He was carefully turning the delicate pages, seeking a spell he remembered reading years ago. Suddenly he sensed that Strange was close by, behind him, presumably looking for a book.

“Am I in your way, Mr Strange?” Norrell asked without looking around. “Can I help you find something?”

Instead of replying, Jonathan stepped up directly behind him and embraced him, his long arms stretching around his body and his hands clasped across his stomach. He pulled Norrell backwards until their bodies were pressed tightly together. They stood that way for a minute or so. The silence in the library was so profound that Norrell thought he could hear his own racing heartbeat in his ears.

As on the previous evening, he hardened but tried to ignore it so that he could spend as much time as possible in Jonathan’s arms. He turned his head to the side and rested it against the man’s chest. 

He sought to keep his voice steady as he said, “If you are having troublesome visions and want to cuddle again, we could go and sit before the fire, as we did last night.”

“Let’s just stay here for a while,” Jonathan whispered, and he rested his cheek on top of Norrell’s wig.

Norrell was struggling not to breathe too deeply and quickly. Somehow standing here was both worse and better than sitting. They were more tightly pressed together for much of the lengths of their bodies. Norrell was all too aware that the front of Strange’s breeches was against his lower back. He almost thought that he could feel a bulge in those breeches, but he told himself not to be optimistically fanciful. He knew that if Strange were to look down over his shoulder, the shape of his own erection was perfectly evident within his breeches,

After several minutes he could not bear the torment of the restraint that he increasingly had to exercise. He pulled away from Strange’s arms and took a step forward, not turning to him lest his arousal be noticed. He looked over his shoulder.

“Do you feel better now, Mr Strange? Calmer?”

Norrell expected the man to say yes and smile. Instead Strange stared into his eyes with a slightly anxious expression. “No, not this time.”

Strange’s face was flushed, and he stood hesitating for what seemed like a very long time. Norrell frowned in puzzlement. He turned to face Strange, his hands clasped strategically over the front of his breeches.

“No? Then what is wrong? Is the Darkness becoming more of a burden for you as we continue to live in it? If our friendly contact is not enough to ease your occasional recollections of your madness and you feel you cannot continue in such circumstances, I suppose … we should turn to finding a way to break the spell as soon as possible and disperse the Darkness.” It was perhaps the hardest thing he had ever had to say, and he tried to suppress his own anguish and concentrate on Strange. 

The other magician replied, “No, it’s that I … You are right, let us sit, please.”

They moved to the sopha before the fireplace and sat turned so that they faced each other. With a shock Norrell realized that Strange was as aroused as he was himself, or nearly so.

He was sorely tempted to give in to his desire, to slowly explore Strange’s member with his lips and tongue, to gradually bring him to climax and possibly to bring himself off at the same time with his hand. But that was not what he wanted from Strange, not under their current circumstances.

Strange stared back at him with an unmistakable look of longing. Suddenly he leaned forward and kissed Norrell’s cheek. Norrell slid slightly further away from him, looking down. It was not the kiss itself so much as the flood of images and possibilities that swarmed into his head that made him further harden and gasp. He struggled to resist what Strange was apparently offering him.

Panting slightly, he said, “Mr Strange! I understand that you are desperate for intimacy now. That you have been away from your wife for a very long time, and that perhaps, as you recover from your madness your desires are returning. But I would hardly be your choice of a partner were it not for our isolation here, and I do not want to be simply a convenient object for your pleasure. To caress you, perhaps to take you in my mouth and give you pleasure while you close your eyes and imagine that I am she.” He shook his head firmly. “We must simply go on relieving our own need in private, as we agreed.” He paused and concluded, “Really, Mr Strange, I would be heart-broken enough if you and I were eventually to part. Giving in to such temptation now would only make it worse.”

Strange hung his head, whether through embarrassment or disappointment Norrell could not tell. 

Finally he raised his eyes to Norrell’s and said, “I do not believe that I would try and imagine that you were Arabella pleasuring me. The way I have pictured it was that I would watch you, and perhaps you would look up at me while you did it, and I would look into your eyes. And I hoped that afterward I could learn how to give you the same joy.”

Norrell drew in a deep breath and expelled it in a sigh. “Truly?” he asked.

“Truly. I have thought of it several times over the past few days. Last night, when we cuddled here, my hopelessness faded away, as we intended. Yet I also realized that I was excited by holding you against me. Last night in bed, when I relieved my desire before going to sleep, I found myself thinking of you. Of my hand being your mouth sucking me.” He smiled slightly. “It worked quite well. I had a good, hard come.”

Norrell smiled in return but dropped his eyes to the floor, uncertain of what he should do. Finally he spoke. 

“That is all very well, but I must ask, what are your intentions concerning Mrs Strange? You went to such lengths to free her, and afterwards you seemed to assume you would return to her as soon as possible. Yet now you do not seem anxious to rejoin her—and will not, if what you have said about traveling in the Darkness is true.”

Strange thought briefly and then replied, “I know this may seem rather sudden to you. You probably assumed that I had constantly loved Bell to the same degree all this time and am suddenly abandoning her. I have long realized, however, that our marriage was less and less joyful to both of us.

“I had become fond of you as a friend during those early years when I was your pupil. Not that the idea of romantic love between us ever entered my wildest imagination. Even if it had, there was always Lascelles about, trying to keep me from becoming too close to you, gaining influence with you. And at that time I had been married to Bell for less than a year. I was still in that blissful early stage of marriage. As my studies continued, however, she often complained that I paid little attention to her and always seemed to have my nose in a book.

“Our love survived the long period when I was away at the wars, but my experiences had changed me. I expected and hoped to be able to go back to peaceful domestic life, but frankly, it seemed rather dull. I was happier when I was at Hanover-square with you. I thought eventually of going away with Bell to our house in Shropshire, to be alone together and to make our love fresh again, to regain the passion we had enjoyed, perhaps to have a child together. Then the war rekindled, and that was taken away from us.

“Once she apparently died, we were apart for two years before I saw her again at Lost-Hope and realized that she had been abducted by the Fairy. That was such a brief and hectic meeting, and we barely had time to say more than a few sentences to each other. She did not seem excited to see me and indeed did not grasp my hands when I put them out to her. She only asked if I had come to rescue her and the other lady—that is, Lady Pole. I knew that she was enchanted and not really herself, but it chilled me to have her behave that way. It was, after all, the reaction I felt I deserved.

“Those two years changed me even more than had the war. I grew to be a different person, in a way. I became even more obsessed with magic, of course, seeking to become a great magician—to own the truth, in order to out-do you in magic. It would be my revenge upon you. I thought the way to do so was to summon a fairy servant—any thing to gain a reputation of being the opposite of you.

“But I also grew used to not having a wife. I did not seek a new love, and indeed, as I mentioned, I avoided accepting the love of Flora Greysteel. Once I learned Bell was alive, my only goal was to free her. I think I wanted that more from a sense of guilt than of love. I had no notion of what I wanted to have happen if I succeeded. In my madness, I did not really think about it. By that point it never occurred to me that we could then go back to Shropshire and take up where we had left off when she ‘died.’ To renew our love, have a child, relegate magic to being a sort of hobby.”

“Magic had changed you to such an extent?” Mr Norrell interjected, saddened by this tale despite his growing hope.

“Yes, of course. It had taken over my life to the point where traditional domesticity seemed … almost bizarre. Looking back, I realize that I was so miserable during that time in Venice partly because I felt that my neglect had contributed to Bell’s enchantment and partly because I missed you. Not that I wanted to be with you, because I thought you hated me and I hated you. But I didn’t WANT to hate you.

“Then, as I have said, when I arrived here at Hurtfew and saw your library … well, I loved it. Not only because of its beauty and the multitude of books, but because I thought it might offer me the knowledge I needed in order to cast the spells that could free Bell—and many more wonderful spells in the future. And then you came in, and everything just seemed to fall into place. There was nowhere else I wanted to be, no one else I wanted to be with. Intimacy did not occur to me at that point, but after you told me you loved me and as my madness faded, it began to.

“Of course, I still must see Bell and talk with her. As the days here have passed, though, and I try to imagine what would happen after that, I cannot see any future with her that would make me happy, or, I suspect, that would make her happy. If we were to escape from the Darkness, I would still want to stay here or perhaps you and I could move back to London and re-establish the situation we enjoyed when I was your pupil—without Drawlight and Lascelles, of course! But if I went back to living with Bell, I would neglect her as much as before, if not more so! No, the only way to please Bell would be to leave you, which I would never do, or to limit my participation in our magical activities, which I know I would not be capable of doing. I have made up my mind. I shall stay with you, and at least for now, we shall finish our researches and devise the spell to take us off to unknown adventures and knowledge.” 

Norrell nodded with a little smile. “Thank you for telling me all this, Mr Strange. It seems very odd to me, since I find you the same wonderful man you were when you became my pupil. Far more skilled as a magician, needless to say, but otherwise much the same.”

Strange shrugged. “I suspect that is because I was very different in your presence than I was elsewhere. I felt calmer and more confident, oddly enough, despite the fact that I was eager to impress you with my abilities. I suppose I sensed even then that I had met someone who understood me.”

Norrell nodded. “I am glad to know that I am not the chief cause of alienating you from your wife.”

“Not at all! It was magic, of course, always magic. I was becoming obsessed with it before I ever met you. But despite our opposition in the past, now to me, you ARE magic.”

“As you are to me. Oh, Jonathan!”

Strange went on. “Believe me, I am attracted to you. Not other men, perhaps, for it is not my natural preference, as we have said. But you, yes.” He smiled fondly at Norrell. “It never occurred to me that I might someday be attracted to another man. Still, it never occurred to me that I would be trapped in a tower of Darkness and come to feel almost at home there. Gilbert?” He held out his hand. 

Norrell slowly reached out and took it.

Strange chuckled. “Given our different inclinations in such matters, it is rather odd that I should be the one courting you!”

Norrell laughed softly. “That is true.” He still hesitated, but each passing day had made him grow more hopeful that Strange desired to remain in the Darkness with him—permanently or at least for a very long time. Now he seemed to have affirmed that. And if Strange was not happy in his marriage and not bothered by the idea of committing adultery, well, that was his decision to make.

They sat holding hands and looking at each other. Strange gave an inquiring little smile, reaching out with his free hand to run his fingertips down the older magician’s cheek. Norrell drew in a shaky breath. The fondness that he read in Strange’s eyes decided him. How could he possibly have believed himself capable of resisting this man?

Norrell slipped closer to Strange, who leaned forward to meet him in what began as a gentle embrace. Their lips brushed tantalizingly against each other before joining. They sucked gently at each other’s lips for a long time, with only fleeting touches of tongue against tongue. Norrell thought of the years that had gone by with him believing that such a thing could never happen. The love that he had tried to suppress for so long came rushing forth like a huge wave. He longed to tell Jonathan how much he adored him, but it seemed too soon for that. He did not want to scare the man off with an excess of enthusiasm.

Finally they drew apart and smiled at each other again. Strange said, “Now that is one thing I already know a great deal about, and I have to say, that was an enticing and delightful kiss. I would like another.”

Their mouths met again, initially as gently as before, but gradually opening to let their tongues explore each other. Finally their mouths were ravenously sucking at each other. Their hands played over each other’s bodies, loosening shirts and pinching at nipples until both were keening softly with desire.

Norrell freed his mouth and gasped as he asked, “So I should go on … perhaps to something you are less expert at?” He cupped his hand over the front of Strange’s breeches, caressing and squeezing the hardness within.

Strange moaned, “Yes, please!” He reached down and quickly unbuttoned the placket, pushing his smallclothes and breeches down to free his fully hard cock. Norrell meanwhile spread Strange’s shirt wide and admired the muscular torso. He reached for a cushion to place below his knees as he knelt and spread Strange’s legs wide.

Strange slumped down and watched him with heavy-lidded eyes, panting. Norrell stroked his inner thighs with teasing fingers as he examined the large, erect member, enthralled at the sight. Finally he grasped its base with one hand and delicately licked it all around, starting at the tip and working his way down to the testicle sac. His eyes had dropped shut in total absorption, and he uttered an occasional little moan of pleasure. 

Strange reached down and removed his wig, gently running his fingers through Norrell’s short hair and down his cheek. “God, that feels good! Bell used occasionally to do this for me, but she never really enjoyed it. To see you so aroused by it … oh, Gilbert!”

Norrell opened his eyes and looked up at him, smiling as he moved back to the crown and sucked it into his mouth. As with Childermass, he could not take much of it in, but he had learned to suck and to stroke it with his hands provokingly, drawing out the pleasure so that his partner watched him and drifted in pleasure for long minutes.

At last he longed to taste Strange for the first time, and he increased his rhythm and watched as flinches of joy distorted his lover’s face. Strange began to keen shrilly. “Please!” he said through clenched teeth. Norrell suddenly squeezed the shaft tighter and pumped it quickly, delighting as Strange’s bliss gushed into his mouth. He swallowed and kept sucking and squeezing until the last tiny waves of Strange’s climax faded.

Quickly Norrell rose and sat beside Strange again, sliding his hand across the man’s sweaty chest and belly and stretching up to kiss his neck and cheek as he calmed. Soon Strange turned his head and smiled at him. They kissed softly, and if Strange was repelled by the lingering taste of his own seed, he gave no sign of it.

Eventually he recovered enough to whisper, “Now let me do the same for you.”

Norrell shook his head and grasped Strange’s hand and pressed it to the front of his breeches. “For now, this will be enough. I imagine you can extrapolate from pleasuring yourself to pleasuring another man.

“Indeed, I should hope so!”

Gradually Strange spread Norrell’s shirt open and began to frig his erect cock through the cloth. Norrell relaxed his head onto the back of the sopha and moaned quietly as Strange undid his breeches and lowered them. His mouth explored Norrell’s chest, lingering over each nipple, flicking and sucking it into a hard bead. Norrell writhed and whimpered, and Strange’s tongue lingered while his fingers freed Norrell’s cock entirely and pulled on it repeatedly.

“You are rather larger than I expected,” he murmured against Norrell’s chest.

Norrell opened his eyes at that. “Really?”

Strange grinned and rubbed his thumb over the little slit at the tip. “Yes. Quite impressive for a man of your stature.”

Norrell smiled and relaxed back against the cushions again, savouring the sensations that were flooding through him. After a few minutes, however there was a change. In place of Strange’s hand he felt a warm tongue lapping at his shaft. Norrell’s eyes flew open again, and he looked down. 

Strange had shifted slightly away from Norrell and leaned down to kiss and lick his prick. Once it was wet, he pumped it briefly with his hand as he raised his head and looked up at Norrell with a grin. “All right?”

Norrell gulped audibly and nodded. The sight of Strange’s head in his lap had rendered him speechless, and he gasped raggedly as the other man’s mouth took the top of his cock in and sucked eagerly on it. “You don’t have to …” he gasped, but Strange merely paused, looked up at him with a mischievous grin and returned to sucking on the end of his member. Norrell reached down and ruffled Strange’s hair with his fingers before huffing rapidly as his arousal approached its peak. “I’m … I’m …” he gasped before tipping over the edge and releasing his ecstasy into Strange’s mouth.

Slowly he relaxed and panted as Strange sat up, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe away some stray seed from his chin. He stared at Norrell with a smug, if rather drowsy smile. Norrell smiled back at him and leaned his own naked torso against Strange’s, resting his head on the other magician’s shoulder. “Oh, Jonathan,” he said softly.

Strange skimmed his fingers lightly over the back of Norrell’s loosened shirt for some time as they savoured the lovely tingle of their afterglow.

At last Norrell sat up slightly and looked in Strange’s face. “Will you sleep with me in my bed tonight?”

“Of course. Just try keeping me out of it! I want to hold you in my arms while I sleep. If you don’t mind. Maybe you would find it difficult to sleep that way.”

“Not at all! I would love it! I … I used to sleep with Childermass in my bed every night.” 

Strange chuckled. 

“What is it?”

“I just realized that I did not think of Bell once during that—well, except for the rather unromantic remark that she did not enjoy performing that particular act. I was too absorbed in you. You’re a marvelous lover. I can tell already.”

Norrell blushed. “Well, Childermass was an excellent teacher.”

“I couldn’t possibly work any more after that, and all this talk of cuddling in bed makes me want to retire early.”

“Yes, let’s!” Norrell paused and sobered. “I suppose we must be quite cautious about doing any thing that would make the servants suspect that we are … well, lovers. You should probably dress and bathe in your own room, even if you sleep in mine.”

Strange sighed. “Yes, I suppose we must. I cannot believe that any of them would betray us to the local constabulary, but the risks are so great that we must take no chances whatsoever.”

Half an hour later, the pair were ready for bed. Strange had teazed Norrell over his elaborate nightshirt, breeches and cap, which he found quite charming, and Norrell had delighted in the fact that Strange slept in the nude. The two kissed softly for a time and then settled back side by side.

Strange studied the room closely for the first time. “Hmmm. Do I sense a certain motif running through the artworks on your walls, Gilbert?”

“Yes, these men were my only companions during my many years of solitary pleasure. After my uncle’s death, I ordered a rearrangement of some of the paintings in the house, putting ones more to my taste in here. Now, however, I need hardly pay attention to them. The real thing is far more attractive.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

THE EIGHTH DAY AFTER THE ENCHANTMENT

The next morning the two magicians sat long over their breakfast, their fingers frequently reaching out to play with each other and almost continuously exchanging rather foolish smiles. They arose and left the dining room only when they heard the doorbell ring.

Their visitor was Davey. He had brought with him a healthy-looking cow, which he tied to the iron railings of the front steps. His uncle, he informed them, was willing to sell her. Lucas was with him, and they went into the drawing-room to discuss what Davey might do if he returned to Hurtfew.

Although Davey was disappointed to hear that Norrell no longer needed the large carriage and team of handsome black horses, he agreed to return to his former master’s employ, taking care of the animals and the park and kitchen garden. He would also enquire around the neighborhood and attend the monthly market in the nearby village, looking for further animals to buy. Norrell and Strange had agreed that, if they were to travel to foreign places in the Darkness, they would need a small number of sheep and pigs to supplement their diet when they were not able to buy supplies locally. They also wished to purchase a smaller carriage and a single horse, to take care of simple shopping and other household errands.

Norrell paid Davey for the cow, and he and Strange were about to return to the library when the doorbell rang again. 

“We are becoming quite popular,” Strange remarked, as he opened the door. On the doorstep was Mr Westgate, along with his assistant, the shoemaker and the barber. They carried in boxes and cases, which they unpacked in the drawing room, draping the various shirts, breeches, vests and jackets over the furniture. The cobbler set out a variety of shoes and boots for Strange to try on. Norrell took advantage of the barber’s presence to have his own hair cut. Even his short curls had grown enough that his wig was not sitting as well on his head as usual. Norrell positioned himself so that he could watch as Strange stripped down to his smallclothes and tried on every item that was on offer. Most of them fit him, but a few would need alteration. Mr Westgate promised to have the alterations done in three days. Strange also chose some work shoes, everyday shoes and boots, as well as sitting down for a very welcome haircut.

After the tradesmen’s departure, Strange triumphantly held up some white folded garments. “New smallclothes!” he cried with a grin. “At last I shan’t need to wash out the same set over and over.” He tossed them down on a chair.

“Do not get dressed again,” Norrell said quickly, as Strange picked up a pair of breeches. “You cannot provoke me in this fashion and then walk away!”

Strange grinned. Immediately they were in each other’s arms again, and they sealed the door magically and gave each other oral pleasure once more. Norrell remarked afterward that already his lover had considerably improved in his performance. Strange replied that he needed considerably more practice, and the pair laughed and caressed each other and achieved very little in the way of research between then and the moment when the gong rang summoning them to the first lunch not prepared by Strange.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

The previous day Norrell had received notification that in the early afternoon two wagons carrying the crates of books from Hanover-square were scheduled to arrive at Hurtfew. Davey was set to doing some gardening in the park near the archway, so that he could greet them.

At about 1:30 Davey knocked at the library door. Norrell bade him enter, and he announced, “Mr Norrell, sir, the books are here. I tried to tell them that they might drive up to the door and make unloading easier. They won’t do it, sir, being afraid of the dark and all. Mr Strange, sir, if you wouldn’t mind helping Lucas and me, I reckon we can use the cart and get them into the library in a couple of hours or so.”

Strange agreed cheerfully. With a much smaller staff of servants now, he expected to be required to take a hand in tasks of this sort. He was still recovering his old strength after a period of debilitation caused by his madness, and he welcomed the chance to have some physical exercise after long stretches of reading and note-taking. 

Norrell, whose small frame and sedentary habits made him unsuited to such work, remained in the library, instructing the others as to where to put each crate. He began opening them and pulling out the contents, concentrating especially on the boxes containing what he considered the most useful books of magical spells.

Eventually all of the boxes were in the library, and Strange joined Norrell in the unpacking and sorting process. Since he was still not entirely sure of where each book should go, he pulled them out and stacked them by type, while Norrell scurried about putting them on their proper shelves.

After opening one large crate and checking its contents, Strange straightened up and turned to Norrell. “Gilbert, I’ve found the forty books that I took with me to the Peninsula! I brought them back nearly three years ago. I’m surprised that you never unpacked them.”

Norrell walked over to him, wiping his face with a handkerchief and panting slightly from his labours. “Actually, I did unpack them. I am grateful to you for preserving them well enough to be returned. Still, they were rather battered, and I put them back, intending to send them to a bindery for repair. It was too large a job for me to handle myself. Somehow I never got around to it. I suppose I had become used to doing without those particular books. They were chosen, of course, as being the volumes most relevant to military situations, hardly something I dealt with directly myself. And later, of course, they came to remind me of you and of our conflict. I just put them away in a closet.”

Strange pulled the books out one by one, glancing fondly at them and setting them aside for belated repair. 

“Do you know, I occasionally used some of these as pillows, when we were billeted in particularly sparse conditions.”

Norrell looked shocked, quite forgetting for the moment about the damage to the books. “Oh, Jonathan, how awful! I hate to think of you having such a hard pillow and being so uncomfortable.” He hugged Strange and nuzzled his neck, patting his back as if the discomfort was of recent occurrence.

Strange returned his hug and then held him at arm’s length, grinning. “Well, it was almost worth it to have you make such a fuss over me. You are so sweet!” He chuckled. “Not that most people would think you so, mind you. But I know better!” He bestowed a tiny kiss on the tip of Norrell’s nose, making the man blush and smile at him, as if to confirm his opinion.

“I also am quite familiar with the contents of those books! They were all I had. I read every one of them at least twice, and the more interesting ones over and over—quite apart from consulting them when I had need of spells for specific tasks.”

Norrell moved out of his arms and walked over to his desk, and, as Strange watched him curiously, he pulled a thick volume from a drawer. He hesitated, staring down at the book, and carried it over to his lover.

Strange looked at the title of the beautifully leather-bound volume and up at Norrell with a sad smile. “My book. You kept a copy for yourself. Why? I thought you sought to destroy it utterly.”

Norrell stared at the floor. “I wanted to read it, of course. I wasn’t sure that I would approve of what it contained, but I certainly could not let it simply disappear. After all, I own quite a few books of which I disapprove. I once said I understood you, and the book did not disprove that. It is a wonderful book but one which, even after I read it, I thought could be dangerous to those who do not understand the very essence of magic. I was convinced that you and I were the only ones qualified to read it. Now that magic has returned, however, I no longer believe that. People will need this book to guide them, to teach them in the correct fashion.”

Strange sighed and said, “I am so glad to hear you say that! At first, when I began to receive letters in Venice, telling me what you had done, I was furious. Then I consoled myself, thinking, well, I can always publish a new edition, once I defeat Norrell. John Murray, of course, wanted to force you to pay for the costs of such an edition, and I suppose I initially thought that it would serve you right.

“You know, even at that point, when our relations were at their lowest point, I did not want to use magic against you, not to hurt you. No, as I’ve said, I wanted it to be a contest, with me proving myself the more powerful magician, the Greatest Magician of the Age, as you had styled yourself. But I thought the way to do so was to summon a Fairy. He would give me vast power and make my reputation as the one who brought true English magic back. And what did I do instead? Allowed myself to be tricked into trading my wife away. I found her by accident and then ended by being imprisoned in a Tower of Eternal Night. And I caused you to be imprisoned here as well.”

“Really, Jonathan, I do not mind—ˮ

“Yes, I know, but suppose you were imprisoned somewhere you did not want to be? It is only by good fortune that I decided to move my Darkness here, of all places. Well, not entirely good fortune. I wanted to confront you again, whether to fight you or join forces with you I’m not sure. It only became clear once I saw your library—and you.”

Norrell smiled. “Possibly you acted under the guidance of John Uskglass?”

“Mmm, possibly indeed. But the point is, I was terribly angry at you and seeking to defeat you in any way I could. I suppose if you had published a book at the time, I might at least have been tempted to do to it what you did to mine. Under such circumstances, I cannot entirely blame you for what you did.” He ran his fingers over the gold gilt on the letters on the green leather.

“You are very generous, Jonathan. Can you forgive me, though?”

“I think so. Especially if, as I hope, you might agree to help me have a new edition published, and perhaps the other volumes I had planned as well.”

“Oh, undoubtedly I would! I wish to wipe away as many of my mistakes as I can. I could certainly pay Mr Murray’s expenses for as many volumes as you care to write. I’m quite certain that he would be happy to publish them. They are sure to be very popular. I would undoubtedly endorse them, though I do not know what influence I have with the British public at this point. Of course, you currently have a reputation as a mad, murderous magician, but with Mr Murray’s help and that of the newspapers we can perhaps change that. And that very reputation might make the book a sensational success!”

Strange hugged him tightly. “My only other condition is that you advise me in the writing and revisions.”

Norrell nodded happily. “Of course. Indeed, when I read the first volume, I started a list of changes that I thought advisable. Only for my own benefit, or so I thought. Now they may be of use to you.”

Strange chuckled. “I am not surprised.” He let Norrell go and looked at him in mock trepidation. “How many pages do those notes run to?”

“Oh, I doubt much more than twenty.”

“Twenty-some pages, and in your very small handwriting! But seriously, I would love to read them and will undoubtedly benefit from every suggestion.”

Norrell’s smile faded as he thought of the other great act against Mr Strange that he had committed. He knew that he should confess it, and yet it took all the courage he could summon to bring it up so soon after their discussion of his destruction of Jonathan’s book—and so soon after they had become lovers. Should he put his confession off? He decided that it would be better to make it immediately.

Norrell crossed the study to a dim corner where he had put one of the book boxes—not one of the sturdy carriers that he conveyed his library in, but a cheaper one, with the label of Titus Watkins, the obscure bookseller that the magician had chosen to publish the volume of Strange’s letters. He almost changed his mind, but he opened the box and pulled out a slim book, bound in black leather.

“Would you join me on the sopha, please, Jonathan?” he said in a soft voice. He sat down and placed the book in his lap, pressing his hands flat upon it, as if worried that it would somehow escape from him.

Strange complied and glanced curiously at the book and at Norrell’s drawn face.

Norrell took a deep breath. “You will recall that I mentioned your brother-in-law’s visit to me in London, bringing with him some letters you had written to him. He showed them to me and Mr Lascelles. He wanted advice, since he was very disturbed by the letters’ contents and wanted to know if he should heed your plea and go to Venice. We … we advised him not to go.

“Later, after your brother-in-law departed, I remember Mr Lascelles reading aloud the passage where you referred to my resurrection of Lady Pole. He tried hard to conceal his delight at having learned such damning information, but I could sense his hidden glee. He pretended to sympathize with me and worry about what might come of my secret becoming public knowledge. The hypocrite! I recall that Childermass came in as we were discussing what to do. Lascelles hid the letters, and I tried to prevent Childermass from noticing. I wish now that I had told him the truth and asked for his help.

“At any rate, Mr Lascelles insisted on acquiring letters that you had sent to other people, including Mr Murray. I’m convinced he did so by underhanded means, though he was careful not to mention any of his actions to me. This little volume came out in an edition released last month and financed by me. I can only say that now I deeply regret it.” He took his hands off the little book and lifted it, staring sadly at it for a moment. Without further comment he handed it to Strange. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes for a few seconds before watching Strange anxiously.

Strange read the title, THE BLACK LETTERS, and then flipped through the book, glancing at some of the pages. He looked up and frowned at Norrell. “You published my letters! Why? They were private and written in a time of despair and madness.”

Norrell looked at him in distress, terrified that his lover would turn against him, reject him, decide to dispel the Darkness at any cost and leave him. “Jonathan, you must understand. All sorts of rumours about you were circulating—your madness, the tower of Darkness. Those letters confirmed everything that I had feared. You had summoned a Fairy and cast horrifying spells. I feared for the reputation of English magic if you returned. Mr Lascelles insisted that we could help avoid your causing such damage if we could reveal you as having gone mad. The public would no longer view you as a respectable magician, and my approach to magic would be vindicated.”

He paused and finally continued. “It was he who edited them, taking certain things out and putting others in.”

Strange was looking through the book more slowly. “Such as?”

“Well, most obviously, he removed your remarks about my methods of resurrecting Lady Pole and the results that followed—”

Strange shrugged, still frowning. “I am not surprised by that, of course!”

“There is worse, though. Of course, it was in Mr Lascelles’ interests not to tell anyone else, but he used the fact of his knowledge to force me into things I otherwise would not have countenanced. Most notably, some of the things he added to the letters strongly suggested that you murdered your wife with magic.”

Strange sprang up from the sopha and glared down at Norrell. “And you agreed to that?”

Norrell was unable to meet his eyes. He found it difficult to take a full breath. “Not exactly, but I could not stop him. He threatened to tell Sir Walter what I had done.”

“But as you say, surely that would be entirely against his interests. His status and fame rest entirely upon yours.”

“Perhaps. He claimed that he was doing all this to protect me. But once, when I expressed strong disagreement with something he wanted to add to one letter, he hinted that he would be even more famous and admired as the man who had exposed the sensational and shameful secret of the Greatest Magician of the Age. After all, I had become quite unpopular with the public by that time, and I’m sure they would seize upon such news as simply more proof of my villainy. I remember Lascelles said, ‘Of course, sir, I would never do that to you. At least, not as long as our current cordial relations are maintained.’ I knew what he was implying.

“After that, I did not doubt that if he felt I had defied him, he would be ruthless enough to carry through with that threat. I just could not take the risk. Of course, after he had altered the letters and published them, he assured me that he had just threatened me as a last resort, seeking to protect me, to make sure that I did nothing rash that would ruin the cause of English magic.

He sighed unhappily and breathed heavily before continuing. “I have to admit, what Mr Woodhope told us made it utterly clear, at least to me, that you had not murdered your wife. On the contrary, he told us of how you insisted upon having your wife’s coffin dug up and the contents inspected. He said that your servant, named … um …”

Strange said stonily, “Jeremy Johns.”

“Yes, that was it. He found a log of wood therein. I realized at once that it must be the remains of a moss-oak image that the Fairy used to trick you. Of course, I pretended to agree with Mr Woodhope’s opinion that Johns had lied to him. Yet I knew then that Mrs Strange must be under the same enchantment that Lady Pole was.”

He glanced up at Strange with a pleading expression. “I assure you, if I had thought I could do anything to help your wife, I would have done so. I had had no success rescuing Lady Pole, however, and how could I expect to succeed with someone that I had had no part in betraying to him?”

The fury had gradually faded from Strange’s face. He gazed sadly back at Norrell. He said quietly, “No, of course you could not. It was certainly I whose neglect and inattention ended in her enchantment. And Lascelles must have terrified you with his hints that he would betray you! Well, I must say, wherever he is now, I hope he is truly miserable and remains so. What a wretched excuse for a man!”

He sat down with a thump in a nearby chair and leaned back, crossing his arms.

Norrell was slowly wringing his hands. “Jonathan, I apologize for doing such a thing. It was even worse in a way than destroying your book.”

Strange sighed and nodded. “I understand, Gilbert. Lascelles had made himself your guide in everything to do with society and politics and the promotion of English magic. He put himself between you and the world on the pretext of protecting you, and as a result you could not do without him. You fretted under his control, and yet you really dared not break with him, or even cross him. He exploited you unconscionably!”

“I have to confess, I was also angry with both you and myself. You had betrayed all my teachings and advice in seeking to employ fairy magic. Yet I began to wonder if I had long ago told you the truth, I might have convinced you of the dangers of such wild, uncontrolled magic. I might even, with your help, have found a way to rescue Lady Pole. I quite despised myself for having failed to save you from going off along the path you had chosen.”

Strange smiled ironically. “Perhaps you would have convinced me, Gilbert, but I doubt it. I was so sure of myself, so sure that you were wrong. I wouldn’t make the sort of mistake that you did, oh no. Hah! Remember, my prophesied name is Arrogance. Comfort yourself! Things have come out reasonably well in the end. Certainly much better than they were.”

He looked at Norrell with a more affectionate smile and leaned forward, his hand outstretched. After a moment’s hesitation, Norrell leaned across as well and took it.

Strange said softly, “I accept your apology, and I would like a cuddle to demonstrate that I am sincere and we are still friends.”

Norrell smiled rather shakily and rose and moved to stand by his chair. Strange pulled him down to sit on his lap. Their arms went around each other, and they sat for several minutes without speaking. 

Norrell finally said in a low voice, “I have done so many things for which I needed to apologize to you. This is the last one, though, and I assure you that I shall tell you the truth in the future. I lost you through lies, and I hope I have regained you by telling the truth. I would never risk losing you again! Never … never.” He buried his face against Strange’s neck.

Strange sat silent for a time, stroking his back, before replying, “Then I shall be frank with you as well. I cannot wholly judge you when I myself have made mistakes and done magic that I regret. You have heard the rumours that I performed dark magic while in Portugal. You were kind enough to disbelieve what you heard, but … well, it was true.”

Norrell sat up straight and looked at him curiously.

“Yes. It was a situation I could not avoid. Some cannon that Wellington’s troops desperately needed in order to defeat the French had been stolen, and he utterly depended on me to find out where they were. The only soldiers who knew where they had been hidden were a group of Neapolitans—and unfortunately the ones we had access to were all dead!”

Norrell gasped.

“Exactly. And not recently dead, either. Obviously I knew you had performed a resurrection spell of some sort, but I had no idea what it was. I used an old spell, one you would consider quite unacceptable. Well, I myself thought it unacceptable. It did not truly resurrect its subjects. Rather, it turned seventeen soldiers into living corpses.”

“Oh, no, Mr Strange! I only agreed to bring back Lady Pole because she had but recently died. When Lord Castlereagh asked me to resurrect Lord Nelson and Lord Chatham asked the same of William Pitt, I pointed out that they had been too long dead for such a thing to be advisable. And I must add, on Lady Pole I used a spell that truly brought her to life … through the Fairy’s help.”

“Really? That is all very interesting and makes sense, but at the time I had so little knowledge that I used that dreadful spell. It did work, in that we were able to get the necessary information from these animated dead men. The result was a great help in Wellington’s eventual victory. Still, these poor soldiers traveled about with us, pleading to go home and see their families—who would have been horrified had they done so. Eventually Wellington sent them back to Hell by burning them. The whole thing was truly ghastly. I still dream about it occasionally. Indeed, obviously I didn’t mention it, but my recent visions from my past have included those poor soldiers. So you see, I cannot look down upon you from a high peak of virtue and say that I have never used magic to dismal effect. I have pretended, too. Like you, I concealed my one great lapse in judgment in doing magic. At the time I asked that my actions not be reported in any of the dispatches written by the officers.”

Norrell leaned forward and hugged him again. “Thank you for telling me, Jonathan. It is a sad tale, but at least I know that I am not the only one who has done such things.”

They remained entwined for a time. Eventually Strange yawned and said, “Well, apparently you have no more horrid confessions to make, and I certainly don’t, so I think it is time for bed.”

His yawn was contagious, and Norrell responded with one of his own. “No, I believe you know all the worst about me now—and I apparently know the worst of you. But as we’ve been sitting here, I was reminded that I have no idea how you found out about my summoning of what I might call ‘our’ Fairy. I have been puzzled about that ever since I read your letter mentioning it.”

“Oh, I can definitely enlighten you on that and also part of the tale of the progress of Lady Pole’s finger, at least up to a point.”

“Lady Pole’s finger! How in the world did you know about that?”

Strange chuckled. “Well, that is a long story, and it can wait until morning. Let’s discuss it after breakfast tomorrow.”


	7. Mr Norrell and Mr Strange explore their new intimacy, and Lady Pole's reply arrives

THE NINTH DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT

As the two magicians finished their breakfast the next morning, Strange made a show of wiping his mouth with his napkin and standing as if to move into the library and begin his work as usual. Norrell caught his wrist however, and held him.

“Oh, no, Jonathan. You promised to tell me the tale of Lady Pole’s finger.”

“You would rather sit here and talk than read about magic! You astonish me.”

Norrell smiled at him. “No teazing, Jonathan. You know I am mightily curious about this subject. Some sort of magic must have been involved for you to have learned of that finger, and I want to know what sort.”

Strange sat down with a grin, and they rang for another pot of tea.

“Well, first of all, I should say that I learned of the finger purely by accident, even though I had just been doing magic. I finally, after much struggle and experiment, succeeded in summoning a Fairy, ‘our Fairy,’ as you say, and finally being able to see him. I asked him to teach me magic. He did not answer right away, but the second time he visited me, he agreed to do so. I was of course elated. He offered to give me a present in token of our arrangement—any thing I wanted. As you can imagine, he tried to trick me into taking some highly traditional and unwise thing—a kingdom to rule over, a beautiful woman, the sort of thing that always leads to the hero’s downfall in the old tales. Instead, purely on impulse, I asked him to bring me something he had gained from his last dealings with an English magician.”

“Oh, my good Lord!” Norrell cried. “Then you already knew that I had dealt with him!”

“No, not in the slightest. That’s the oddest thing about the whole affair. I assumed that whatever he would bring to me would have resulted from a bargain struck hundreds of years earlier. I hoped it might be some wondrous object that could teach me something about the old magic.

“That very night he left a little box at the door of the Greysteels’ house, where I was dining. I was shocked to see what it was. I spent quite a time trying to think whose finger it could be and why it was given to the Fairy. At that point I was still assuming that it was something he had acquired centuries before. Oddly, I recalled hearing something about a lost finger, but it had been told to me long ago—by Drawlight, I think, so I did not pay much attention. I suppose he had mentioned Lady Pole’s strange disfigurement after her resurrection.

“For some reason, the mystery of the finger encouraged me to think of trying to visit the Fairy at his own domain. I suppose I thought that the finger confirmed he was cooperating with me and that I could impress him by finding him on my own. Indeed, I made my way to Lost-hope via the Fairy Roads. As you know, that further led to my discovery that Arabella was alive, again quite by accident, and to the curse that imprisoned me in the Darkness.

“It is remarkable that the finger came to me in that fashion. To my further mystification, within hours I saw a woman dancing at Lost-hope who was missing a little finger—and her fingers were of the same paleness and delicacy as the one I carried with me in the box. In fact, I was just about to inquire how she had lost her finger when I was utterly surprised to see Arabella alive. I must say, the lady was very unfriendly to me, trying to convince Bell to stop talking with me and denouncing me for not having come there to rescue them—when I had not even known that they were there when I conceived my plan to visit the Fairy!

“It was only afterward, when I found myself imprisoned in the Darkness and had time to reflect on the night’s events, that I made the connection between the 'last English magician' and the fact that a lady missing a finger, someone who knew Bell, was under the Fairy’s enchantment. I realized that she had to be Lady Pole and that you had summoned him to effect her resurrection. Summoned him as I had, though you did not need to resort to driving yourself mad. You had the spells in your books, the hidden ones that you would never show to me.”

Norrell nodded sadly.

“It all made sense. Fairies often take tokens from those they abduct, as emblems of their control over those enchanted. I reasoned that if somehow the finger could be returned to the lady during those times when she was not at Lost-hope, the enchantment might well be broken. Hence I wrote to Childermass, explaining the situation and sending the letter and the box with the finger to be delivered by Drawlight.”

Norrell stared at him. “Drawlight? He never arrived. Well, I suppose that instead he gave or sent the finger and letter to Lascelles, along with the letter from Drawlight to me that Lascelles was supposed to give to me but did not. I distinctly remember that when he was telling me what Drawlight’s letter to me said, he remarked that part of your madness consisted in taking the fingers from young Venetian ladies. That alarmed me very much, though I could not fathom what it meant. Now I think it must be because by then he had possession of the finger but had no idea whose it was—only that you had possessed it. I do not understand why he did not turn over to me the things that Drawlight had sent him.”

Strange thought for a while. Finally, shaking his head, he said. “Well, if Lascelles had the finger, I do not understand how it got from him to Childermass. Surely he didn’t give it to Childermass or you would know of it. Perhaps he planned to use the finger to blackmail you or for some such mischief. He seems capable of any amount of devious, nasty behaviour.”

Norrell frowned worriedly. “No, he did not give it to Childermass, but something very odd happened that night. Childermass used his cards—you know the ones, I believe, the so-called Cards of Marseilles—and claimed that someone had sent him a valuable object which Lascelles had stolen. Lascelles was enraged and cut poor Childermass’s cheek with a knife, and while he was doing so Childermass stole something out of his pocket. It was a small box, like a snuff-box, just the right size to hold a little finger.”

Strange gasped. “What colour was it?”

“I only caught a glimpse of it, as Childermass was holding it very tightly. I should say, a sort of lilac-color, perhaps, with some grey … or blue.”

“That was it! That fills in the last gap in the finger’s progress. Childermass then took it to Lady Pole.”

Norrell fretted. “Even though Lascelles no longer has the finger, I wonder what sort of harm he could still do to me.”

“Have you used magic to search for him?”

“No. I suppose I was afraid to find out. And after all, I have had other things to worry about—and to rejoice about, of course,” he added, squeezing Strange’s hand. “Still, I suppose we could try now. It could be quite important. He might be in London, besmirching my name for all I know.”

Strange muttered, “I wouldn’t mind using a muffling spell on HIM—or worse!”

He went out to fetch fresh water while Norrell went into the library and moved his silver basin to the central table. Once Strange had returned, he filled the basin.

Standing before it, Norrell hesitated. “Really, I don’t know what I could do if I find Lascelles. If he wished to reveal my secret to government officials or the newspapers, I suppose he has done so by now. Nevertheless, I suppose his current location might give us a hint as to his plans and intentions. It might rule some possibilities out, at any rate.”

Strange nodded. Norrell began as usual, dividing the quadrants of the basin into Earth, Heaven, Hell and Faerie. The two stared in astonishment as a greenish-blue glowing dot appeared in Faerie.

Strange looked baffled. “Well, it is not a very Christian thought, but I was rather wondering if we might find him in Hell, and I admit I should not have been entirely sorry to learn it.”

Norrell looked up at Strange in astonishment. “But Lascelles in Faerie? Can we have made some mistake in casting the spell? Are you sure the water was fresh and clean?”

“I drew it from the usual spot, where the water is always freely running. And you are hardly likely to make a mistake, having cast this spell so frequently. What in the world could have placed him in Faerie, though?”

“Well, let me try to make the location more specific. Perhaps that will tell us more.”

Norrell kept quartering the water and narrowing the search. It took some time, but eventually he placed Lascelles somewhere on an old Fairy Road between Doncaster and Newcastle. 

Norrell paled.

“There are only two major buildings on that road, two citadels. I know that one is called the ‘Castle of the Plucked Eye and Heart.’ I believe that must be where he is.”

Strange frowned. “Not a very cheerful name. What could this mean? How did he get there? Has he been kidnapped by a Fairy? I must say, I pity any Fairy who kidnaps that wretch!”

“I doubt that has happened. When we were journeying from London to Hurtfew, we stopped in a bleak countryside and Childermass rode away to the side, through a gap in a hedge. I suspected that it was the old Doncaster-Newcastle fairy road. When he came back, he described going through a forest full of corpses and visiting a castle of that name. A young man claiming to be the champion of the castle challenged him. Lascelles belittled Childermass quite severely for having refused the challenge and ridden back to us—though of course Childermass was entirely correct in doing so, as I pointed out.”

“I see. But I gather that you all journeyed on and arrived here safely.”

“Yes. I cannot fathom why Lascelles should be there now. Unless … it seems absurd, but he was most upset that Childermass had revealed himself as a coward by failing to duel with the champion. Could Lascelles have been so idiotic as to return there to prove himself braver than Childermass? He never did believe in Faerie and dismissed my warnings about its dangers.” Norrell shook his head. “He might even have found the prospect amusing, as he found so many quite serious things.”

"It does seem absurd, and yet, there he is.”

“Yes, well, given that he is still alive, perhaps he fought the duel and became the new champion. I remember two or three old tales of that sort. Those corpses in the woods may have been those of previous champions who all eventually were defeated and, naturally, their challengers who were killed. I wonder if Lascelles will last long against any others who might happen to ride along that road. After all, with the Roads open, there may be more who find that castle, sooner or later.”

Strange thought briefly. “Are you inclined to try and rescue him? Or shall we assume that he has brought upon himself the punishment that he deserves?”

Norrell looked into Strange’s face, searching for some clue as to what answer he expected. He found none. “We might find some way to save him, but I suspect that it would be a distraction from projects that are frankly more important. Moreover, if we went there, he would be bound by the enchantment to challenge us, and we would be at considerable risk. I certainly never encouraged him to do such a mad thing. Moreover, I suspect that the Darkness, though some sort of fragment of Faerie, would not be able to enter another part of Faerie. At any rate, I cannot help but feel that whatever John Uskglass intends for us, if anything, saving Henry Lascelles does not figure in it. I think, as you say, that he brought this upon himself. Let him deal with it himself, say I. He may somehow come out of it well. We don’t know the rules that govern such enchantments.” He shrugged.

“I quite agree. I once said, you may remember, ‘Damn his eyes!’ He has hearkened to my call, and I confess to being delighted to have my wishes granted so thoroughly. Now, we have spent a large part of the morning talking about that villain. His vicious actions nearly caused a serious rift between you and me, just as we have become lovers. I suggest that we move to the library and get some work done and try to forget about him!”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

In the middle of the afternoon, Norrell was sitting at his desk, contemplating a series of notes that he had arranged in a certain order on the desk. It seemed to him that the rough shape of the spell they were seeking was beginning to be clear to him. He reached out with a finger and slid two pages about to reverse their order and further pondered the new configuration. 

Quietly Strange came up beside his chair and leaned forward with one hand upon the desk as he glanced over the notes.

“Well, you have made some progress since this morning. I like the wording there, though are you sure you need that phrase?” he said, pointing to one small square of paper.” 

Norrell marked the phrase for possible elimination and smiled up at him.

Strange put his hand on Norrell’s knee. “I think it is time for us to move on to other intimate activities with which I am unfamiliar. Not, I assure you, only because I want to learn about them, but because I want you.”

“Do you? I quite agree. I think we should go to my bedroom and cast a labyrinth in the hallway outside, as well as some other simple spells for silence and so on.”

Once they had made these arrangements, the pair sat on the side of the bed, still fully clothed.

Norrell took Strange’s hand and examined it. “Good, you have trimmed your nails quite short, as requested.”

“Yes, of course. Gilbert, I am not familiar with the specifics, but I do a general notion of something else that men do together. It involves, does it not, one putting his member up inside the other’s arse.”

“Yes. Childermass used the word ‘buggering’ for it. Rather an unpleasant name, I thought, but I never objected. The more formal word—”

“Is sodomy. That I have heard.”

“Another unpleasant word. I don’t know of a pleasant word to describe it, though there should be one. It can give both participants such enormous joy!”

“Shall we try that now, then? Which of us would be, um—”

“On the bottom and which on the top? I confess that I have seldom been on the top, the one that does the buggering. I prefer the other way around. But if you wish to know what it feels like, I could do it to you, and then you could decide which you prefer. And no, we shall not try it now. It is difficult and can be quite painful if one does not do it with proper preparations and care.

“What I would like to do now is teach you how to ready your partner for the act by demonstrating the process on you. You may be assured that even the preparation can be very pleasant in itself and often is done just for its own sake. I promise you that I will bring you to climax, and I hope you will do the same for me.” 

He went and rummaged in a drawer and brought out a large jar of salve. He opened the it and held it out. Strange scooped up a tiny dollop and rubbed it between his finger and thumb.

Norrell smiled. “I shall use quite a lot of that now, and slide my fingers inside you back there. One thing to realize is that you will need even more of it when putting your erect member inside me. You can scarcely use too much, so don’t be abstemious with it! All right, let us undress.”

Strange grinned. “You make this sound more like the careful preliminaries for a complicated magical spell than an act of love.”

As if to prove him wrong, Norrell began to undress Strange slowly, pausing to kiss his neck, chest and shoulders as they appeared and to skim his fingertips over the chiseled torso. Strange responded similarly, and they took long minutes quietly savouring each other’s bodies until they were completely naked. Embracing tightly, their lips met in the leisurely way that they had during their first kiss.

When they drew apart, Norrell said, “Lie down with your stomach on that cushion, my dear Jonathan, and spread your legs slightly.”

Strange complied, and despite his smile he seemed slightly nervous. Norrell joined him on the bed, sitting by his hips. He admired the swell of the shapely buttocks. He grazed his fingers over them; then he leaned down to kiss them and gently bite the firm flesh. Strange slowly began to breathe deeply.

Norrell parted the buttocks to expose the cleft and the tiny orifice. It was neatly ringed with small wrinkles. “So, I am going to put a finger inside you, here.” He caressed the arsehole with a single feathery touch. Strange flinched slightly.

“The object is to loosen this tight ring of flesh until it permits the erect member to enter it without too much pain and discomfort. It takes quite some time, perhaps ten minutes or more, especially if you are new to this activity, but it is most important to be gentle.”

Strange looked around as best he could. “And how does one loosen it?”

“Well, one can use one’s fingers and sometimes one’s tongue.” He hesitated. “I have only done this a few times myself, long ago. I have had it done to me many times, however, so I know the procedure. And I know it can hurt occasionally, however careful one is. Please let me know if I cause you any pain.”

Norrell dipped his fingers into the jar and began gently to rub Strange’s entrance. The latter relaxed and closed his eyes.

“That’s quite pleasant,” he remarked. “Yes, I like that.”

“Good! You should try to relax as much as possible.”

Norrell continued for a while and then slowly slipped his middle finger slightly inside and paused.

At once Strange tensed and opened his eyes. He frowned and looked back over his shoulder as best he could. “That feels very peculiar and not particularly pleasant.”

“But does it hurt?”

“No, not at all.”

“Then I shall continue. Eventually, if you enjoy being buggered, you will get used to it. And I suspect that even if you do not, you will occasionally enjoy just being fingered like this.” He began to make tiny circles with his finger and slid it further in.

Strange was still and silent for a time but eventually remarked with mock skepticism, “You say that this is something men do for pleasure?”

“Indeed it is. It’s just that, well, the acts we have already performed begin to give pleasure right away. This simply requires more patience. But, yes, men do it for pleasure, and I hope to show you why in quite a short time.”

Strange looked back at him again with an ironic smile. “If I did not know you so well, I might suspect you of playing a lewd joke upon me.”

Norrell chuckled, admiring as he often did, how Jonathan could be humourous in almost any sort of situation, in this case a slightly tense one. “I am not as witty as you, and it would never occur to me to do such a thing. I suppose during the war you were exposed to somewhat more … earthy humour by the common soldiers.”

Strange grinned but did not reply.

Norrell resumed, “Besides you knew about sodomy and had some idea of what it involved. What I am doing cannot be a complete surprize.”

“Well, I never really thought through what it would involve. I wasn’t particularly interested. What little I had heard seemed rather distasteful.”

Norrell decided that his lover needed a little demonstration of the purpose for their efforts. He worked more quickly, striving to push his finger forward. Strange gasped but did not complain.

The older magician pressed forward, curling his finger and stroking along the front of Strange’s passage. At last he found what he was seeking, and Strange stiffened and went up on his elbows with a loud groan. Norrell paused and the man said, “Good God! I have never felt anything like that. Did you perform some sort of magic to create that sensation?”

Norrell laughed. “There is no magic involved. There is a little place inside you, and me, and all men, that produces such pleasure when pressed. And if a finger can do that to you, imagine the effect of a fully erect cock!”

“Well, do it again, please!”

Norrell stroked him several times, until Strange was panting and moaning. “Don’t stop, please!” he cried as Norrell withdrew his fingers briefly.

“I am trying to loosen you as well, so that you may know how to do the same for me. Let us see what two fingers can do.”

He dipped his fingers in the salve again and gradually worked the hole open to the point where he could put them both inside. Again Strange had to be patient and concentrate on what Norrell was doing to him. At last the fingers slid over the little gland, and this time Norrell did not stop but gradually increased the pressure as Strange began to whimper with desperation.

“Oh, God, it feels … it feels … sublime!”

Norrell smiled and slid his hand under the man to find his firm prick. He had hardly begun to squeeze it when Strange let out a great sigh and froze, silent, as his face contorted with the waves of pleasure swept through him. Norrell continued to finger him until Strange relaxed and then slowly withdrew with a little moist sound and wiped his hand and Strange’s slightly gaping hole.

Strange panted for a short time and then rolled onto his side. Norrell slid up so that he was facing his lover. Strange smiled at him in utter contentment. Norrell reached out and ran his fingers through his long, soft hair. He raised his eyebrows quizzically. 

“Oh, yes, Gilbert, I definitely see what you meant! What an extraordinary sensation! I’ve never experienced such a thing. I had no idea that we men are so equipped.”

“I’m so glad you enjoyed it, Jonathan!”

Norrell had been completely erect during all this and was longing for Strange to take his turn, but he forced himself to wait patiently until the other magician had recovered. Finally he lay in turn on his stomach and Strange stroked his back and buttocks before beginning. Norrell talked him through the whole process. Strange had lost his jocular air and was sweating slightly as he slid first one and then two fingers into Norrell. 

“That feels wonderful, Jonathan! You need not go quite so slowly as I did. I am quite used to this by now, though I have not done it for about two weeks. But I can tell you have a gentle hand, and I don’t fear that you will hurt me through over-eagerness.”

“Never, if I can help it,” Strange whispered. His fingers were large enough that he had no trouble locating the spot that made Norrell moan with pleasure and beg for more, and he soon brought the man to climax.

Afterward they cuddled and rested for only a short time, for they needed to dress and take away the various protective spells they had used to guarantee privacy in time to return to the library before they were called to dinner.

+++++++++++++++++++++

THE TENTH DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT 

Strange had enjoyed the new way of sharing pleasure so much that the next day was divided between continued research and intervals spent in the bedroom as Strange got the “practice” that he insisted he needed.

++++++++++++++++++++

THE ELEVENTH DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT

Late the next morning two days later, Strange came hurriedly into the library, carrying the day’s mail. He dropped most of it on Norrell’s desk but held up one letter.

“A reply from Lady Pole,” he said.

Norrell looked terrified, but he replied urgently, “Open it! Please, read it to me. I am too nervous to—ˮ

“Of course!” Strange broke the seals on the edges of the letter and unfolded it. It consisted of four densely written pages. “Well, it’s quite long. That suggests that at least she has not simply dismissed your apology and plea out of hand. Here is what she says.”

Mr Norrell,

I apologize for the slight delay in my response. I was surprized and displeased upon my arrival here at home in London to find a letter from you addressed to me. At first I was so angry that I could not bring myself to read it. I did, however, read Mr Strange’s letter, since I was naturally desperate to learn what had happened to Mrs Strange after I escaped from my enchantment. What he told me eventually convinced me to read yours as well.

I suppose I must appreciate your apology for exposing me to a burdensome enchantment, though the wrong you did me for your own advancement was so great that I am not sure that I can ever entirely forgive you. As a Christian, I shall try, and I hope I can eventually do so. I owe you gratitude for your role in ending the enchantment, whatever that role was, so thank you.

I admit that immediately after my entrapment in Faerie ended, I was bent on revenge. I planned to write to the editors of the top newspapers. Upon reflection, however, I decided not to do so—not for your benefit, I should add, but for mine.

You may rest assured on the question of my revealing your secret, either to government officials or to the press. I have not even confided my woeful story to my husband. Since early in our marriage I have realized that he and I share few interests and attitudes toward the world, let alone any great affection. He married me for my income, and my mother encouraged the match as affording me, and through me her as well, a considerable rise in social standing. Now that I am back in my home and “cured” of my “madness,” I shall contemplate how I might change my situation. 

In truth, I am now not particularly tempted to tell any one. As to the public, I should make myself the object of gossip and gawking and all sorts of erroneous speculation. As to close friends or relations, I have no one who would understand or sympathise with me. I gather that as a result of your shoddy treatment of Mr Strange through the destruction of his book, you have already lost much of your popular standing with the public. I see no reason to further disillusion them. If they remember your deeds during the war with admiration, they may keep those sentiments for all of me. I know the magic that you and Mr Strange accomplished doubtless saved many lives, and in part for that reason I would be inclined to keep silent even if I did desire to expose your secret.

I know from Mr Strange’s letter that he has been magnanimous enough to forgive you for what you did to his book. He suggests that the two of you are friends again. I cannot refrain from saying that I think the two of you deserve each other, since he was greatly at fault in allowing the Gentleman (as he was generally and ironically called by us Christians at Lost-hope, since we could never pronounce his actual name) to steal away dear Arabella. 

I am very grateful, however, for the news of her safe escape that he gave me, as well as for the address he provided. I shall write to her and try to see her again as soon as possible. In her I have a true friend, and of course, she already knows the truth about the results of your and her husband’s dealings with the Gentleman.

I must admit that I also take some satisfaction in the fact that a strangely appropriate justice has resulted from your and Mr Strange’s meddling with the Gentleman. Mr Strange failed to save his wife and me during his visit to Lost-hope, and he was cursed to live in Perpetual Darkness. You have somehow been caught by that same cruel curse. I consider that your suffering in that state will be a punishment for what you did to me—a greater punishment than any I could bring upon you by noising your past deeds to the world.

All of that being said, it may surprize you to learn that I wish to ask a great favour of you and Mr Strange, one which you may be in a position to grant me and thus to make up to some extent for your past wrongs. 

When Mr Childermass returned to Hurtfew Abbey, he presumably told you that our butler, Stephen Black, also attracted the attention of the Gentleman, who became extraordinarily fond of him. Stephen was thus lured into the same enchantment as Arabella and I, forced to spend his nights in endless rounds of gloomy dancing and frequent celebrations of past hideous crimes which the Gentleman had committed. 

I escaped from the enchantment shortly before Arabella did, through the unexpected kindness of your servant, Mr Childermass. He brought to Starecross Hall where I was confined the finger that the Gentleman had taken from me as a token of my enslavement. Mr Segundus returned it to my hand, and my misery ended. He and I learned that Stephen and the Gentleman were near the village, and we rushed out to meet them. The Gentleman was about to perform magic upon me, intending to kill me, I believe. But suddenly Stephen did something that I still do not understand, and the Gentleman was cast into the rushing water of a beck. I tried to speak to Stephen, but he went running off along the bank, following the Gentleman as he was carried away.

Mr Segundus and I tried to do likewise, but the earth and stones and water reared up as if alive, and the landscape changed and blocked us. Mr Segundus was convinced that this happened through some hugely powerful magical spell. He seemed quite weak and faint as a result. Later that day, when the area had returned to normal, we sent out a search party, but no sign of Stephen was ever found.

I believe the Gentleman was killed in the turmoil, for otherwise he would have returned and revenged himself upon us. Perhaps Stephen was killed as well, but I cling to the hope that he is alive somewhere. Throughout our enchantment he was very kind to me, and odd though it may seem, we became friends. 

If you and Mr Strange could use your magic to find out what happened to Stephen and inform me of what you learn, you would earn my gratitude to the point where I might be able to forgive you both. I beg of you to at least try and do so.

Sincerely,  
Emma Pole

Relieved though Norrell was by Lady Pole’s assurances that she would keep his secret, he had been reacting glumly to her resentful comments about his behaviour. When she turned to the subject of Stephen Black, however, he looked up in puzzlement and surprise at Strange. Once the latter finished his reading, he gazed back at Norrell with a similar expression.

Eventually Strange spoke. “Well, at least you know that Lady Pole will hold her peace regarding your secret. Still, this news about Stephen Black is quite astonishing!”

“Yes, but what does she mean by saying that Childermass returned here and told us about his enchantment? Childermass did no such thing.”

“I don’t know. She must have just assumed that when he left Starecross, he would return here. It would be a logical assumption, since she may not have known that Childermass had parted ways with you. At any rate, the killing of the Gentleman, as she terms him, seems to have been a much more complicated affair than we thought.”

“Yes. I had believed that somehow John Uskglass had simply made our spell work as we had hoped. But now it appears that Stephen Black, of all people, killed the Gentleman. How could that be?”

The pair thought for a while before Strange suggested, “Well, we called upon the sky and earth and water and plants of England to obey the ‘Nameless Slave.’ We assumed that would be John Uskglass. But could Black, a servant and a black man, be a ‘Nameless Slave’ as well? But surely Sir Walter’s butler was not a slave. Such a thing is not legal in England.”

“No, but he might have begun as one. I believe Sir Walter’s grandfather had some plantation holdings in the Caribbean, which quite possibly did involve him owning slaves. If Black were born there but brought to England, his status as a slave would automatically dissolve. ‘Stephen Black’ does sound like the sort of name an Englishman would assign to an African man, does it not? And from what Lady Pole says, the earth and water and so on seem to have risen up to do his bidding. So perhaps our spell was crucial to the Gentleman’s death, more so than we thought.

“And do you remember that when we used the location spell to find Uskglass the second time, I said that I did not think it was the same person we had seen before?”

Strange’s puzzled expression was replaced by one of amazement as he thought back. “Yes, you did say that!”

“Perhaps … perhaps there were indeed two ‘Nameless Slaves’ in Yorkshire that night. We intended to invoke the power of nature as an offering to Uskglass. But suppose he had left by that point? Remember, the little speck indicating his presence disappeared from the water, and the second then appeared shortly thereafter.” He shook his head in astonishment. “What an extraordinary coincidence! Or, again, perhaps not such a coincidence. Possibly Uskglass deferred to Black for some reason, deliberately leaving Yorkshire so that our spell would affect Black instead and allow him to kill the Gentleman and end the spell. Certainly the Raven King would be capable of such planning and control.”

Strange nodded, placing the letter on Norrell’s desk and sitting on the edge of it, looking down at him. “So, as I understand it, in a sense our spell went wrong, in that it did not do exactly what we intended. But in another sense, it was spectacularly successful. We gave Stephen Black the power he needed to destroy his captor. Given that power not by Uskglass but by us! So we did not directly kill the Gentleman ourselves, nor did Uskglass, but our combined help must have enabled his death.”

“Exactly. I cannot believe that such a thing happened by sheer luck. It must have been Uskglass’ intention.” Norrell again sat thinking for a moment, puzzled. “Why would Lady Pole think I am suffering here in the Darkness? To be sure, I imagine she suffered greatly, because she was taken away to the Fairy’s domain and forced to stay there for half of every day. But I am back in my home. I do miss daylight to some extent, but Hurtfew in the Darkness is better than anywhere else in the light … especially given that I have you with me.” He grasped Strange’s hand.

Strange squeezed his in return. “Well, I imagine Lady Pole would not understand how any one cursed by the Gentleman could be happy under any circumstances.”

Norrell nodded. “Ah, yes, of course. Well, that’s fine. Let her think that I am suffering, and perhaps it will make her happy. That might help to compensate her for what I did in consenting to that horrid agreement.”

Strange considered this. “Yes, why not? It might, as you say, make her happy. Or at least less unhappy. Her present situation sounds quite grim.”

“Yes, but if we can locate Black and learn his situation, that might make her considerably happier. Let us see if we can manage it. Though I must say, I fear that he probably died in the great struggle to kill the Gentleman. Otherwise, if he is such a great friend of Lady Pole’s, why did he not return to Starecross and let her know that he had survived?”

“Well, possibly he was injured and rescued somehow and is still recovering. I shall go out and fetch some water, and we shall see what we can do at least to learn where he is.”

A short time later, Strange returned and filled the basin with clear water. Norrell intoned softly, “Stephen Black, Sir Walter Pole’s butler,” and divided the water into the standard quadrants to start the search: Heaven, Hell, Earth and Faerie.

To both magicians’ astonishment, a blue speck appeared in the Faerie portion of the surface.

Norrell straightened up and stared at Strange. “Again? First Lascelles and now this.”

Strange grinned. “Well, there may have been two ‘nameless slaves’ in Yorkshire the other day, but surely there are not two ‘Stephen Blacks’ in Faerie.”

“No, it is a thoroughly Christian name.” Norrell went on dividing the water, reciting the various realms of Faerie. After a while he paused to think. “Sometimes it has happened that the person who kills the king of a Faerie realm takes his place. I wonder …”

“Try Lost-hope then.”

Norrell did so, and at once the speck appeared in that quadrant.

There was a short silence.

At last Strange said, “Well, we at least can assure Lady Pole that her friend is alive. Still, I’m sure she wants to know how he is faring and how he managed to end up in Faerie again. For that matter, I should very much like to know that and more. It’s a very puzzling situation. Are we witnessing the beginning of another of those rare cases where a Christian becomes the king of a Fairy realm?”

Norrell’s eyes widened and he looked quite intrigued and pleased at the prospect. “I suppose it is possible. It would make some sense that John Uskglass, by origin a Christian himself, might think that another Christian would make a good king. Given the wickedness of the Gentleman, Uskglass might have decided to try and replace him. Perhaps not wishing to intervene directly himself in such a palace coup, he may have set up the circumstances that allowed the two of us and Black to accomplish it. To choose a servant, though! That seems very odd.”

“Well, why not? The Gentleman apparently saw much to admire in him. And though Uskglass was of noble birth, his position in the brugh during his childhood was, by his own account, one of a humble slave. How Uskglass became aware of the existence of Stephen Black is another question, probably an unanswerable one. Nevertheless, apparently Uskglass saw the parallel between them: both ‘nameless slaves.’ And come to think of it, the reference to a nameless slave in the prophecy certainly did not refer to Uskglass. It must have referred to Black.”

Norrell nodded. “That makes sense. Well, I suppose we have two options for proceeding. You might be able to find Lost-hope again, and we could visit Black. Alternatively, we could try summoning him. I would suggest the latter. It’s possible that we are wrong about Black being the new king. It seems most unlikely, but he might instead again be a prisoner there—in which case we should be putting ourselves in a highly dangerous situation.”

“Yes. It would be much wiser to summon him. If he is a king, fine. If he is a prisoner, perhaps we should be the means of his escape. So, shall we use the same spell again?”

Norrell smiled. “Why not? I said on that momentous evening twelve days ago that your Maria Absalom spell was the one I would use, and I have not changed my mind in the interval. At least this time we know what name to invoke. We should devise a different envoy, path and handsel, though. The ones we used for John Uskglass were chosen specifically for him and are hardly appropriate in this case. In fact, I believe we should consider revising other elements of the spell for this particular occasion. After all, the results of that spell involved some very frightening aspects, not least the chaos of birds and its unfortunate effects on my library.” 

“Surely those actions came from Uskglass himself, not from the spell.”

“There is little doubt of that, at least for some things that happened. He is hardly a benign being, however much we think he has helped us. He was using us to fulfill his own ends. I cannot help but think that the chaos of ravens and the huge eye at the window were meant to remind us that, though we are powerful magicians, he is still far more so. At any rate, I should like to try and have better control in this summoning. Let us do some research into the matter of summoning spells. A day’s delay in casting our new spell cannot hurt, and I want to be sure that it is—”

“As precise as possible!”

“Exactly. I am glad that you have come to agree with that basic principle, Jonathan.”

“Oh, I always agreed with it. I just wasn’t very skillful in achieving it. But I’m working on it!”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

They spent the afternoon and evening doing research. Finally Norrell was feeling cold and suggested that they take some books to bed with them, along with a copy of the spell they had used to summon John Uskglass, and read and discuss them there.

Strange agreed, and they soon were comfortably under the covers, reading and occasionally leaning against each other for a kiss. 

“Now this is the way to conduct research,” Strange remarked happily after one such pause.

There was a small heap of paper scraps before them on the bedspread, and they would insert one as a bookmark when they found something of interest, either for summoning Stephen Black or for achieving their goal of traveling in Hurtfew.

After about a two hours Mr Norrell lowered his book and took off his reading glasses. Strange put down his book as well.

Norrell sighed. “We have not marked many pages since we came to bed. I must say, I put these particular books aside for further investigation, but they are not among the ones I considered most likely to be helpful. They needed to be checked, however, and now I believe we have done all we need do in the way of research.”

They put the books into neat stacks, and Strange slipped out of bed long enough to place the stacks on a chest of drawers by the door.

He hurried back to the warmth of the bed and nuzzled against the side of Norrell’s head. “Gilbert,” Strange murmured, “I think I need more practice in this.” He held up his hand, two fingers extended, and made an expressive and explicit gesture.

Norrell smiled at him. “Well, I was feeling drowsy, but you have managed to wake me up. I suspect you don’t really need any more ‘practice,’ but I should be happy to give you another demonstration and for you to give me similar joy.”

Norrell did, and Strange reciprocated. Once they had cleaned themselves, Strange helped Norrell into his night clothes and they climbed back into bed, pulling the covers up over themselves.

Norrell glanced over at the books they had been reading and said, “I _never_ thought I would again summon a Fairy—well, not a Fairy, of course, but apparently a Christian ruler of a Fairy realm."

"I only hope that he is more cooperative when summoned than John Uskglass was! I don’t fancy having your library turned upside-down again.”

“Our library, Jonathan,” Norrell whispered in his ear and shifted to curl up with his back to Strange so that his lover could hold him closely as they fell asleep.


	8. The two magicians summon a King

THE TWELFTH DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT

After breakfast, Norrell and Strange gathered their courage and returned to the library to complete the summoning spell and attempt to cast it.

Norrell said, “All right, we agree that we must summon ‘Stephen Black, formerly butler to Sir Walter Pole, London.’ But what envoy, path and handsel shall we use?”

Strange pondered. “We know his name, so we presumably need not find an envoy, path and handsel that can identify him for us, as we did with the Raven King. What we need are things that have some association with Black, and yet what could such things be? I don’t even know him beyond brief polite exchanges as he took or returned my cloak and hat when I visited Sir Walter.”

“Yes, my knowledge of him is similarly restricted. Still, I think we can reason this out. Now, I think we can assume that he was under the same basic enchantment as was Lady Pole. I recall that she complained of doleful bells and sad music and suchlike. Do you remember when we cast the spell to make all the land and sea and sky and beasts and plants and so on to pay homage to “the nameless slave,” a bell in a small turret above the stables here rang quite frantically?”

“Um, yes, I believe you are right—though so many other things happened at that moment.”

“Still, there may be a connection. I suspect that the Gentleman used bells to summon Her Ladyship and presumably Mr Black to Lost-hope. Mournful bells, that is.”

“Yes, I do remember Sir Walter once telling me that the bells of the churches in their area of town were no longer rung because they disturbed his wife so terribly.”

“Then let us try employing that little stable bell as our envoy—a more cheerful, friendly one than he has been used to hearing.”

“Good! And the path. The River Hurt worked as a path when we summoned the Raven King. Could we employ the beck at Starecross that, according to Lady Pole, carried away the Gentleman—apparently to his death?”

“Very good, indeed, if we assume that Mr Black used it and other elements of the landscape to kill the Gentleman! Which leaves only the handsel.”

The two stood and thought for a while. Norrell said uncertainly, “If he is such a friend to Lady Pole as she believes, he might wish to have the letter she wrote to me. In it she speaks in very friendly terms about him. Moreover, if we succeed, it is a record of the reason we contacted him—a memento of the occasion.”

“Yes. I believe you are right. Let’s try that.”

“All right, then we have candidates for all three necessary components of the spell. If one or more do not work, we can try others. Well, I believe we are ready to cast the spell. Do you agree?”

“Assuredly!”

They filled the basin with water and held out the paper with the revised version of the spell upon it, quietly intoning it together and including the agreed-upon envoy, path and handsel. Despite the refinements that they had added to Strange’s summoning spell, their experience with the Raven King led them to fear that some abrupt, chaotic magic would rush through the library. Instead, in the blink of an eye a calm, dignified figure stood between them and the starlit window that looked out toward the Hurt. The candles were bright enough to allow them to identify the face of the butler who had greeted them on the occasions when they had visited the house in Harley Street. His figure seemed, however, to glow slightly, making it easier to survey his garments and accessories.

He was clad in a rich but simple light grey satin suit of clothes, with a magnificent jewel upon his forehead, held in place by a thin, curving, elegant filet around his head. He held a matching silver orb in the crook of his elbow, with a slender sceptre in the hand of the same arm. The other arm hung in relaxed fashion at his side. 

He nodded to each of them. “Mr Norrell and Mr Strange, I am pleased to see you. Thank you for summoning me so graciously.”

Norrell and Strange both instinctively bowed to him.

Norrell said, “Welcome to Hurtfew Abbey, Your … Your Highness, as I assume we should call you. Are you King Stephen now?”

The King nodded. “Thank you, Mr Norrell. Yes, you are quite right. I am the king of the realm formerly known as Lost-hope. I am no longer Stephen Black, but as you were so wise as to specify that I was ‘formerly butler to Sir Walter Pole, London,’ your spell worked. There is no other such butler.”

Norrell smiled and glanced smugly at Strange as if to say, “You see, I told you that precision is vital in spell-composition!”

Strange chimed in, “And what is Your Majesty’s kingdom called now?”

“I have not decided. ‘Hope-rekindled’ or ‘Found-hope,’ something of the sort. I have barely made a start on rescuing that sad realm from the results of hundreds of years of disorder, cruelty, neglect and idle pleasure, but I am determined to set it to rights.”

Strange nodded. “A most admirable goal, and one which I have no doubt you can achieve. Might we call you ‘King Stephen,’ unless you have chosen a new name?”

The King hesitated slightly but replied, “Certainly you may. That would simplify the conversation.”

Strange continued, “We should say that our summoning you was done at the request of Lady Emma Pole, who much desires to learn what happened to you after she last saw you at the bridge in Starecross. She told us about seeing the Gentleman fall into the beck and you rushing off along with him as he was swept away. She fears that you were killed, but we shall assure her that you are alive and well.”

The King smiled softly. “I am tremendously grateful to her Ladyship for having requested that you inquire as to my fate and to the two of you for casting the spell that summoned me hither. As you no doubt know, I would not have been able to leave Faerie for the first time without a magician summoning me. Now that you have done so, I can visit Lady Pole myself and assure her of my safety. I believe that she will be quite delighted that I am now King in the Gentleman’s place.”

Norrell dithered for a moment before replying, “Could you perhaps mention that fact to her Ladyship? That is, that Mr Strange’s and my magic allowed you to visit her? She naturally resents my part in causing her to be put under the … um, the Gentleman’s or the Fairy’s enchantment. I hope that she can to some extent forgive me for doing so. I suppose your own enchantment was a side effect of my inept dealing with him when I summoned him in the hopes of resurrecting Lady Pole. As you say, a Fairy cannot visit England without an initial spell to draw him there, and I foolishly provided the Gentleman with that spell. I really must apologize to you.”

“I must admit, Mr Norrell, that there was a time I cursed your name for what you had done to Lady Pole. I suppose I would myself resent your part in my enchantment had it not turned out so well for me—and, I think, for the residents of the old Lost-hope. In the long term, Mr Norrell, your summons permitted a very evil Fairy King to be eliminated from the world, which is no small thing. For my part, I forgive you, and yes, I shall explain your part in my ability to visit Lady Pole.”

Strange interjected eagerly, “Indeed. Your Majesty, Mr Norrell and I have a theory that we contributed to your ability to kill him, yet we are not quite sure how. Do you know how you did it?”

“Only vaguely. When I was with the Gentleman on the bridge, an enormously powerful magic began, a magic that put the power of the earth, stone, water, sky and plants at my service. Although the Gentleman had in some ways been quite kind to me, I knew that I had to end his cruel reign, and I summoned their help. Once he was dead, all that power was withdrawn, and I wandered on until I reached Lost-hope and was welcomed there as a liberator.”

Norrell frowned and asked, “King Stephen, have you ever gone by the title of ‘the nameless slave’?”

The King’s smile faded. “Yes. I knew that I was born a slave, though I was later automatically freed by arriving in England. But I never would have thought of such a title, ‘the nameless slave,’ until I met a man named Vinculus. He told me of a prophecy, “The nameless slave shall be king in a strange country.’”

“Yes,” said Strange. “We are familiar with the prophecy, but we never connected it with you until now.”

“I know. Vinculus said that he had already told the prophecy to you both.” He smiled slightly. “Frankly, given its descriptions of the fates of the two of you, I am surprised to see you both doing so well. At any rate, the Gentleman promised to find out what my mother, who died in childbirth, called me. Alas, he was never able to tell me, and as he was about to die, I told him I accepted the fact that I was indeed ‘the nameless slave.’”

There was a moment of silence. Finally Norrell turned to Strange. “You see, Mr Strange? That confirms my belief that the second blue dot in the basin was not the same one we had seen when we located John Uskglass!”

Strange grinned at him in amused resignation. “Yes, you were right and I was wrong.”

The King looked back and forth between the two in puzzlement. “I was some sort of blue dot in your location magic?”

Norrell nodded. “Yes, we used my magical basin and tried to locate the Raven King.” He gestured at the basin, sitting on a nearby table. “We succeeded! He was in Yorkshire of all places. And yet he vanished and a second dot appeared. Mr Strange insisted that it was still the Raven King, and yet I thought it was a different person. Well, we were trying to cast a spell summoning all of the natural world to bow down before the “nameless slave,” meaning John Uskglass. Apparently with him having departed, the natural world decided to bow down to you instead!”

The King thought for a moment and then laughed. “That explains something which had baffled me considerably. Then I must thank you for your help, for, intended or not, it was a most timely and fortunate intervention.”

Strange hastily explained, “It was certainly not entirely our doing. We have reason to believe that John Uskglass himself played an active role that night and made our magic work to break the Gentleman’s enchantment.”

The King sobered. “That is possible. Indeed, I would say probable. I should tell you that on the very day of his death, the Gentleman cast a spell to learn who his greatest enemy was. To his astonishment and mine, we saw Vinculus coming toward us. The Gentleman became very angry and, to my distress, hanged him. Clearly, though, Vinculus was the emissary of the Raven King, and the things he foretold were about the two of you and me and about how John Uskglass intended you to be the means to place me upon the Gentleman’s throne.

“I think the King of Lost-hope somehow sensed the threat. I spent a great deal of time with him, for he took a liking to me. I assure you that he hated both of you passionately, and yet much of what he said led me to suspect that his anger arose from the fact that he feared you both as well. You are quite powerful magicians, and I am not surprized to learn that the Raven King himself would use you as the instruments of his will.”

Strange burst out, “Yes, and I remember now! I saw you in the ballroom of Lost-hope that night when the Gentleman cast the spell that imprisoned me in this Pillar of Darkness.”

“Yes, Mr Strange. I feared greatly for you then, and yet you bore up under the worst curse he could manage to cast upon you and you helped to defeat him.”

Strange replied, “Well, yes, Mr Norrell and I contributed to that defeat, and yet, here we are, trapped in the Darkness, perhaps for many centuries, as far as we can tell. Whether that is a good thing or a bad thing we cannot quite decide. We tend by now to believe that it is good and are going forward on that assumption. I feel we should ask, though, whether possibly you, with your new powers as King, could help us to dispel it. We would continue doing magic together as colleagues, but in many ways life in England would be much easier.”

He looked over at Norrell, who was watching him with an anxious expression.

The King surveyed the library, where the light from the fireplace, lamps and candles cast soft pool of illumination while leaving the corners and ceiling in shadow. He wandered a short distance through the room, admiring it. “Gentlemen, would you mind showing me the rest of this enchanted Darkness?”

The two enthusiastically agreed, and taking up lamps, they escorted him through the parts of the house in which they lived, as well as taking him outdoors for a lengthy exploration of the park and its river. Eventually they returned to the library. 

The King stood thinking for a short time.

Eventually Strange asked, “Your Highness, might you be able to help us break the Darkness?”

The King looked at them in puzzlement. “Why would you wish to lose this marvelous enchantment? Somehow I can sense that this Darkness is no longer the curse that the Gentleman called down upon you. There is nothing of him about it. It must be the gift of John Uskglass. A little isolated bit of Faerie that you can make of what you will and can. I do not believe that such a thing has ever happened: that a part of Faerie which is not a kingdom has been given over entirely to Christians. Or perhaps I should say, to free Englishmen.” He smiled and held up his black hands. “I know all too well the problems that darkness can cause, and yet it need not always be so. To my astonishment, I was born a slave and am now a king, and, I trust, a kinder one than he whom I replaced. Wonderful things may happen to you as well, if you embrace what you have been given. 

“Oh, I should mention something else about the curse. The Gentleman told me that he had cast it for a duration of one hundred years. Whether John Uskglass maintained that provision when he transformed the curse, I do not know. Since he left some of its other basic provisions, most notably the perpetual Darkness, in place, perhaps he did.”

Strange replied. “Perhaps. Mr Norrell and I have already begun to suspect that within the Darkness time has stopped, in some sense, and that we are no longer aging.”

“Mr Strange, I believe you are right. I have not had time to learn all the secrets of Faerie, far from it, but even I have heard tales of enchanted people coming back to England many years later, unchanged, to find their relations and friends much older. I myself have presumably become very long-lived, no doubt for a period of much longer than a century. It will be difficult to become accustomed to such changes!

“Well, gentlemen, I shall leave you now. I long to see Lady Pole again and to share with her the profound relief that we both feel at the ending of our enchantment. Oh, and Mr Strange, I made the acquaintance of your charming wife during her enchantment and am so relieved that she, too, is now freed from her imprisonment in Lost-hope.”

“Thank you, your Highness. You are very kind. Thank you as well for your encouragement about our staying in the Darkness and treating it like the gift that it apparently is. I hope Mr Norrell and I shall use it to accomplish, as you say, ‘wonderful things.’”

“I do not doubt it. Another thing the Gentleman said on that final day, almost as soon as he had appeared beside me, was ‘The magicians have quarrelled and hate each other! Yet they are nothing without each other.’ I suspect that in that case he was right—apart from the fact that you clearly do not hate each other.”

Before the King could disappear, Norrell quickly said, “I hope, your Highness, that we shall be able to meet with you again—here, perhaps, if we are not able to journey into your domain. I should be most fascinated to learn more about the kingdom which you now rule. And if we are to perform magic to benefit others, perhaps those who are the victims of pernicious spells, then it would undoubtedly be very helpful indeed if we could consult with you occasionally.” He smiled delightedly. “And we could have wonderful conversations about magic! Indeed, possibly Mr Strange and I could become like the Argentines of old, Martin Pale, for example. We could write a history of your reign and how it came to be, as well as perhaps recording some of your spells.” He cleared his throat quietly in some embarrassment. “I must admit that up to now I have not managed to commit my considerable knowledge of magic to print, but with Mr Strange’s collaboration and encouragement, I suspect that a book on the subject would be feasible.”

The King returned his smile. “You are very kind. To respond to your first proposition, we could indeed occasionally meet in the future. I doubt that under the circumstances you could visit my kingdom, though possibly we might devise a way. But we are, in a sense, almost ‘neighbours,’ and I would be pleased to visit you on occasion. I might find that I need advice on some aspects of ruling a kingdom in Faerie!

“Second, now that English magic lives again, a return to the old customs of Christian magicians recording the lives and magical practices of the inhabitants of Faerie seems logical. You two are the obvious ones to lead the way in that revival. I should be delighted to cooperate with you—without, I assure you, setting any of the sorts of conditions that my predecessor would have. Gentlemen, I thank you and bid you good-night.”

With that he disappeared.

The two magicians remained standing and gazing at the place where he had been for a short time before turning to each other. 

Norrell grinned. “Amazing! Well, this will give us much to discuss for days and days. So many magical implications! That I should aspire to be what I might call a ‘New Argentine!’ And you as well. And King Stephen’s visit has explained so much about what happened that night—and about John Uskglass’ part in it. He also confirms what we were already nearly certain of. The Darkness is not a curse but a sign of Uskglass’ favour. We may use it to accomplish marvelous things, if we wish.”

Strange moved forward and put his hands on either side of Norrell’s waist. “I think there is no question that we do indeed wish to do so. And no question that we are indeed nothing without each other. Are we absolutely agreed, then? We shall stay together in the Darkness and learn to travel in it—along with Hurtfew.”

Norrell looked fondly into his eyes. “Yes, and we shall belong to each other utterly. I love you, Jonathan.”

Strange nodded and smiled. “I love you, too, Gilbert. Very much!” He slid his hands around to his lover’s back, pulling him into a tight hug. Their lips met in a gentle kiss that lingered.

Finally they pulled apart and Norrell said breathlessly, “Do you suppose that going to bed a little early tonight and enjoying some intimate activities together would be too frivolous a way of celebrating this momentous occasion?”

“On the contrary, it seems the perfect thing to do. I want to assure you that I find the prospect of spending the rest of my life here with you more delightful than any thing else I can imagine. Who knows what marvelous adventures we might have and what unheard-of magic we might learn?”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The King’s confirmation of the two magicians’ suspicion that John Uskglass intended for them to stay in the Darkness together stimulated their desire to work in the library. They spent the rest of the day in their research and in excited speculations about what their future might hold.

That evening, they finally put aside their books and notes to sit with a glass of Madeira-wine in front of the fire. They held hands and gazed into the flames, occasionally glancing at each other with a smile.

Finally Strange sat up and stretched. “Gilbert, I have come to a conclusion.”

Norrell looked at him curiously. “Yes, Jonathan? Concerning what?”

“I believe I have had sufficient practice over the past few days. I feel confident about moving on—on to something that I think you want very much and which I believe I shall find delightful indeed. Shall we retire to your bed?”

Norrell stood up and faced him with delight. “Oh, definitely! I think you are right. And I certainly would like to …”

Strange grinned. “To what?”

“Well, Childermass always wanted me to say the word, but I find myself reluctant to do so with you.”

Stranger chuckled. “Oh, you mean you want me to fuck you?”

Norrell’s breath caught at hearing Strange use that word so casually. “Exactly. I have wanted that from you for a very, very long time.”

“Well, I am very eager to give it to you, as you can probably tell.”

Without further ado, the pair went up to Norrell’s bedroom.

As usual, they embraced and kissed tenderly before beginning to undress each other, with more passionate kisses administered to necks and chests and nipples as they became accessible. Long before they finished this process they were both fully erect.

Norrell’s hand slid slowly along Strange’s stiff member, rubbing it with his fingers as he went. He stepped back slightly and looked at it calculatingly. 

“When Childermass and I were doing this together, I usually preferred to be taken from behind. I especially enjoyed gripping the bedpost during the act. Now, though, I think … well, his cock curved up and then down again. It went in at the perfect angle when we were in that position. Yours, however, is quite straight and then takes a turn upward at the end. I suspect it would be more effective for me to be on my back.”

“Well, you are the expert! Though I must say, I would prefer that position myself. It’s how I thought of us doing this, at least to start. I would like to be able to see your face, and other parts of your anatomy would be readily to hand.” He reached out and pinched one of Norrell’s nipples softly.

Strange turned and took the jar of salve out of the drawer in the bedside table. Meanwhile Norrell folded a soft cloth and laid it in a saucer, pouring a little water from his pitcher over it and set it on the side table. “I realize that all these arrangements are not very romantic, my dearest Jonathan. Still, it is even less romantic to reach that moment afterward when we … disengage and to realize that we have nothing to clean ourselves with. Moreover, we mustn’t leave a mess on the sheets for the maids to find.”

Strange picked up the jar of salve. “Yes, I suppose cleaning up is more elaborate in this case than after our earlier lovemaking.”

“It is indeed, and I should mention that afterward I shall be a little sorer in that region than when you were just using your fingers.”

Strange frowned as if this had not occurred to him, and he looked slightly worried.

“Oh, don’t worry! It will all go very well and we shall both enjoy it.”

They exchanged a long, deep kiss and climbed into bed. Norrell lay on his back and smiled up at Strange, who opened the jar and knelt between his spread legs. 

“Now, just do as you have been doing, though for a trifle longer.”

Strange leaned forward above him and gave him another kiss. He straightened up, smiling fondly at him as he rose, sliding his fingers down Norrell’s torso until he sank down to kneel once more. He scooped a generous dollop of the salve with two fingers and began to rub his lover’s entrance gently and then inserted one finger inside. Slowly he worked Norrell open, occasionally pressing his fingertip into the front of the tight channel, making the man twitch and whimper. Strange watched happily as Norrell’s face scrunched up when a particularly keen fillip of pleasure flowed through his loins.

This went on for about ten minutes. Finally Norrell, who was panting with need, said hoarsely, “I think I am probably ready now, Jonathan.”

He noticed that Strange’s face with damp with perspiration and his erection was not as firm as it had been.

“I don’t know,” the man responded. “Maybe I should go on a little more.”

Norrell suspected that Strange was simply nervous about trying to enter him, and he let the man go on preparing him for a few more minutes. Finally he reached down and touched Strange’s hand. “Please, Jonathan. I’m ready. Take me.”

Strange took in a deep breath and licked his lips as he spread his cock generously with the salve. He edged forward until he was in position. Still he hesitated.

Norrell sat up, leaning on one hand as he reached up with the other to caress Strange’s cheek. “Jonathan, I want you so badly. Just go ahead gently and don’t worry.”

Strange took hold of his shaft and positioned the tip of his cock against Norrell’s arsehole. He pushed slightly, but it did not go inside.

“You’ll have to push harder, Jonathan. Just a little harder.”

Strange closed his eyes and the muscles of his buttocks clenched as he pushed forward. At last the head popped inside and he froze.

“My God, I’ve never felt anything so tight! It’s so good.”

“Yes. Now thrust slightly, moving in gradually.”

Strange tried to comply but pulled back too far and slipped out. He hastily pushed back in and thrust in tiny increments. “Is that all right? Am I hurting you?” he managed to ask.

“No. Just … go in further … yes, good … further … oh, my Lord, yes! Now, harder!” 

Strange gasped, “But I’m, I’m on the edge. You’re just so tight, it’s exquisite!”

“All right, all right, slow down! Now, a little further. Yes! Yes, there! Keep going, just like that.” He moaned each time Strange thrust. He opened his eyes and saw that Strange was beginning to drift in pleasure, having fallen into a slow rhythm of thrusting, his nervousness forgotten.

They continued at this slow pace for a couple of minutes, but soon both wanted more. Norrell started to frig himself and begged, “Now, Jonathan, hard!” He wrapped his legs around Strange’s waist and pulled himself further onto the shaft inside him and let out a loud groan as Strange thrust at the same time. “Jonathan!”

Strange sped up, still seeming to hold back slightly, but gradually letting himself thrust harder as well. Norrell managed to rise to meet him, briefly struggling to adjust his movement to the same rhythm. He began to whimper as he felt his climax approaching. Strange opened his eyes to watch the ecstasy twist Norrell’s face as he huffed quickly and then groaned, riding Strange’s cock frantically. That tipped Strange into his climax, and he moaned as his balls clenched and drove his seed into Norrell.

Strange relaxed down onto Norrell. Their bodies pressed together, but Strange supported himself on his forearms so that he would not put all his weight on the older man. Norrell embraced Strange and hugged him with arms and legs as they both savoured the afterglow of their climaxes.

Norrell whispered into Strange’s ear, “That was wonderful!”

Strange sighed. “I’m afraid I got off to a rather bad start. I’m not used to having to enter such a short distance and then thrust as well. You were so ... well, I knew that you would be tighter than … what I am used to, but I had no idea how very arousing it would be.”

Norrell smiled. “Well, I would hardly expect perfection on your first time. You were doing very well by the end, though. Believe me, I would rather have it that way than your being very skilled at first and then faltering at the end. Speaking of the end, you are bound to slip out of me soon, and you’ll need to do the cleaning up, being a little gentle with me, as I mentioned.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Strange reached for the damp cloth and gingerly withdrew, wiping himself as he emerged and then cleaning Norrell’s hole with light strokes.

Putting aside the cloth, he lay down beside Norrell, pulling the covers over them both as he did. 

Norrell was lying on his back with his eyes closed, a contented smile on his face. He fumbled for Strange’s hand and held it.

“That was so good! I shall want the same every night, I warn you.”

Strange looked at him, a slightly surprised look on his face. “Every night? Are you in earnest?”

“Yes, of course. Unless there is some reason that we are particularly tired.”

“Is that how you did it with Childermass? Every night?”

“Oh, much of the time we were together, yes. Of course, there was that long period after the rain-ships illusion that I was so very busy, staying up so often late at night listening to the proposals of the government officials. Well, you know about that. Later you joined me in those sessions. On such nights he and I just fell asleep together. It was very peaceful. As it is now.”

Norrell released Strange’s hand and rolled over onto his side, so that he could gaze at his lover’s candle-lit face, so close to his own, and stroke his soft curls. He took a deep breath and sighed. “You are so beautiful.”

Strange smiled, a little embarrassed, and replied, “I am glad that you find me so, my dear Gilbert.”

Norrell looked away. “I wish I could offer you such beauty in return, but, well, I am quite plain.” He shrugged and said quietly, “Sometimes I wonder how you can love me so.”

Strange frowned and shifted closer to Norrell. “But you do believe that I love you, don’t you? Please, don’t ever doubt that!”

“Oh, I believe it! I believed it before you said it aloud today. I just … sometimes have trouble doing so.”

Strange chuckled. “I see. Well, good, at least I don’t have to convince you. I simply have to make it much easier for you to believe. Though putting such deep feelings into words is actually not so simple. What shall I say?” He thought for a time and took Norrell’s hands in his.

“Well, for a start, you are magical. I love magic, and you are English magic, or at least the one who started its revival. I doubt that you and I could ever run out of absorbing things to talk about, no matter how long we remained together. Most other people, even Arabella, talk of such trivial things. I remember during my time in the Peninsula, so many hours spent around the campfire with the ordinary soldiers and the inconsequential things they chatted about. Splendid fellows, but they dwelt on food and laundry and their families at home. Occasionally one would tell a funny or touching anecdote, but on the whole, I would have preferred to be reading—but it was difficult finding a quiet spot with enough light to read. In the daytime I could slip away and read out in a field or in a shady wood. I went through those forty books of yours three or four times each—at least, the more useful ones. I was constantly thinking of things that I wanted to ask you or discuss with you. I must have done so a dozen times a day. I missed you so much during that time, but those books were a little bit of you that I carried along.”

He paused and briefly kissed Norrell, who replied, “But you must have enjoyed talking with the officers. No doubt many of them were quite well educated and witty.”

“To be sure, but so often their talk turned to hunting or sport, neither of which interested me much. Once in a while they would humour me and ask for tales of magic, and I think I managed to entertain them a little.” 

“Surely, though, our shared hobbyhorse of devotion of magic could simply make us dear friends, not necessarily lovers.”

“True, but do not think that I love your only because you are a magician. Back in my student days, you were very kind to me. To be sure, you were reluctant at times to share certain books and ideas with me, and I resented that to some extent. But I reminded myself that you were far more generous with them to me than to any one else. I found you a joy to be with.”

Norrell smiled. “Except when you fell asleep during my lectures.”

Strange chuckled. “Well, I did only once in a great while, though on those occasions I probably had been up late the previous night reading some wonderful book of magic that you loaned me.”

“I am only teazing you. You managed to stay awake through my lectures far better than any one else has.”

“As to your appearance, you may not be handsome in the usual sense, but that does not stop you from being attractive—which can be a very different thing.”

Norrell shrugged as well as he could under the circumstances. “Most people would not say I am attractive either. They find me dull, and I suppose I am.”

“Ah, but I do not find you dull! From our wonderful second meeting you have behaved differently with me than with any one else, even Childermass. I noticed it immediately. For one thing, although you do have a … well, somewhat dry lecturing style, you talked with such animation and enthusiasm when we just sat and discussed my lessons and magic in general. I never heard you talk to any one else like that. For another, you smiled at me and at almost no one else. A marvelous smile. It made me feel treasured by someone I admired enormously, though of course I had no idea that you loved me. It instilled me with confidence, which was wonderful, given that I had initially felt very nervous about meeting such a great magician—especially one who was opposed to there being any other magicians! Your smile was one of the things I missed most when we became estranged. Yes, that’s the very one I mean!

“Moreover, I know by now that you are quite lively in bed, as passionate a lover as one could possibly wish to have—as eager to give as to receive pleasure. Frankly, I am a little surprised that a man of your age would want so much intimacy—pleasantly surprised, I should add. I think our desires will prove to be very well matched.”

Strange thought for a moment. “And, um, you have very good legs.”

“Do I?”

“I assure you, you fill a stocking well. Often when you walk about the library or climb one of the stairways, I pause in my work and admire your legs. No, truly! In general, I can safely say that I find your appearance very pleasing. In fact, if you walked out of this room and suddenly returned looking like Adonis, I should leap up and cry, ‘Who are you and what have you done with Gilbert Norrell? I want him back, this instant, exactly as he was!’ Believe me, I would not change anything about you, not a single hair on your … wig.”

Norrell chuckled and gazed at him adoringly.

Stange continued, “But perhaps most of all there is something you summed up when we parted ways. That you are the only one who fully understands me, and I am the only one who fully understands you. What an extraordinary thing that is, when you come to think about it! We are not easy people to understand, you and I. If we had never met, we might have gone through life never finding anyone who could fathom our gifts and our peculiarities. I loved Bell, but so often I wanted to talk to her about some new idea concerning magic, and after the first few times she came to have little or no patience with any such discussions. I gave up. Yet you never, ever have become bored with me, and I can’t believe that you ever will. You don’t mind at all that I tend to chatter on and on. You may disagree with what I say, but you understand it and are not only willing but eager to listen. In return, you say the most intriguing, brilliant things, and I do not mind how long you take to say them. What could be more attractive than that? That we both find each other perpetually fascinating. Is it any wonder that I love you?”

Norrell stretched up and nuzzled against his neck, kissing it softly, before settling back beside him. “Well, you make it all sound quite convincing. Of course, I need not explain why I love you. It is self-evident. I’m just surprized that any one who has ever met you has failed to fall in love with you!”

“Gilbert, you would be surprised to know how many people have done just that. Some actually find me quite unbearable. Brash, sarcastic, frivolous, but most of all, arrogant, as was prophesied.”

Norrell shook his head incredulously. “What nonsense! I find you completely delightful.”

“Again, I am overjoyed that you do. Well, now you believe that I love you, and I hope you also find it much easier to believe it.”

“Yes, you have made it very clear—and most eloquently. Thank you, Jonathan!”

“Good, that is settled, then.” Strange yawned.

Norrell returned the yawn and asked, “Would you mind helping me on with my night clothes, Jonathan?”

“Oh, Gilbert, speaking of settled, we are so warm and comfortable as we are, and by now it is so cold outside the covers. Can’t you manage without your night clothes, charming though they are, this once and let me protect you from the chill?”

“Well, I have never in my entire life slept naked … since I can remember, at any rate,” Norrell replied uncertainly.

“Yes, but I have just done something I had never done in my entire life, and we both enjoyed it. Could you not do so as well?”

He tucked the covers in around Norrell and embraced him, cradling the smaller body against his own.

Norrell sighed happily. “Well, getting out of bed does seem a deal too much trouble, and you are much more pleasant than clothing or a warming pan as a way to keep the bed comfortable. I shall make the trial this once.”


	9. Epilogue: Mr Norrell receives a reply from Mr Childermass

THE FIFTEENTH DAY AFTER THE DISENCHANTMENT

Late in the morning, Mr Norrell sat working in the library. He felt himself very close to finding a way to move Hurtfew via the Darkness. He had several potentially helpful spells laid out on the table. If he could only reconcile them and meld them into one document, they might be able to make their first short test movements of the house within a week or so. It would be a tedious task, copying out the relevant passages and arranging them, striking out those parts that were unnecessary, copying them out again. It was like a giant puzzle in which he had to make up the individual pieces and determine their shapes before he could create the whole. It was the sort of work he found very satisfying at those moments when he made discoveries or gained insights, but still, it took a deal of time.

Personally he was not in such a great hurry, but he knew that Strange wanted to depart as soon as possible. Now that he had resolved to leave his wife behind and bind himself to Norrell and the Darkness, he was eager to speak to her and make a clean break. Norrell remained slightly nervous about the prospect of Strange seeing his beautiful wife again and possibly regretting his commitment to the Darkness—and him. Still, it had to be done.

The prospect of a departure in the near future brought up the thought of Childermass. He had sent the letter to his former man of business nine days earlier. He hoped they would not have to leave without his having made contact again.

Just as he was thinking about Childermass, Lucas came in with the mail. As Norrell did every day, he steeled himself to disappointment. To his delight, though, there was a letter with the familiar handwriting on it. He had received many letters from his man of business, but in this case he thought back again to that first one, over twenty-six years earlier. It had been so neatly written and carefully sealed, considering the scruffy, very young man who had come to see him two days later. He sighed at the memory, realizing that he was sitting at the same desk facing the same empty space where Childermass had stood when they had had their first conversation. The main difference was the perpetual gloom that enveloped the house now. No, there was another difference, he noted as he opened the letter. This time Childermass had not prepaid the postage.

“Lucas, you will need to leave 3d for the postman tomorrow. Here it is.” 

Lucas took the coins and departed. As Norrell broke the letter’s seals, he reflected that it was just as well that Strange was some where else in the house, making lists of provisions that they would need to order before their departure. He wanted to read this letter in private.

My dear Mr Norrell,

Words cannot convey how relieved I was to receive your letter and learn that both you and Mr Strange are alive and well. As I rode away from Hurtfew that night, I very much hoped that you two might reconcile. At the same time, I feared that you might instead fight, as you yourself expected would happen, and perhaps one or both would be killed. I appreciate your writing to me and am grateful to Mr Robinson for persisting in finding me. As you can see from the address above, I have been stopping at a fairly humble inn in York, and it took him some time to locate me.

You can imagine my grief, and I must admit, my anger at your sending me away that night. I accept your apology, however. I am all too well aware of how insidious Mr Lascelles can be and am not surprised that he would stoop to the despicable lie that you describe in order to turn you against me. Knowing your feelings for Mr Strange, I can in turn imagine your anguish at hearing such a thing and doubly so when you discovered that you had done me, and indeed him, an injustice. 

Thank you for your account of what happened that night at Hurtfew. What an extraordinary set of magic events! I am not quite sure how what happened to you relates to what happened to me that night, but there is surely some connection.

First let me say, though, that I have missed you, too, and have contemplated trying to enter the Darkness and visit you. Thank you for your warning about my potentially becoming trapped there. It seems a logical inference, given your own inability to leave Mr Strange and his Darkness. I agree that the best thing I can do on your behalf now is to assist in some way with the revival and regulation of English magic.

Indeed, through no design of my own, I have become deeply involved in that revival since shortly after I left you on that fateful night. I have a strange tale to tell.

When I left you, I had in my pocket a little box which I had taken from Mr Lascelles. It contained Lady Pole’s finger, and I carried it to Starecross Hall, where Mr Segundus drew the lady out of her enchantment by reattaching it to her hand. I then heard of Mrs Strange’s continued captivity at Lost-hope, as well as that of Stephen Black, Sir Walter’s butler. I determined to return to Hurtfew and offer any help that I could in your efforts to rescue them.

Shortly after I set out, however, I discovered the hanged body of Vinculus. Yes, our old “friend,” who apparently had been executed by the Fairy who had cursed Mr Strange. He was half naked and covered with strange blue writing—under the skin, not on it. I cut him down and stripped him. The writing covered nearly all of him, and I suspected that he was the Book of the Raven King that I had vainly sought for so long. Something very odd happened then. I believe I became enchanted, and when I awoke from the spell, Vinculus was alive again. I have no idea how it happened. The cut on my cheek that Mr Lascelles carved there had also largely healed, leaving only a faint, silvery line of a scar. I had expected it to leave a thick, obvious one.

Vinculus was still in a bad way, and the best thing I could think of was to offer him some claret. Lucas had given me a bottle of it—from your stock, I’m afraid, sir—as a parting present. I hope you will not blame Lucas for that burst of generosity at your expense! I shared it with the man, and he recovered somewhat. He told me the history of how he became the Book of the Raven King. Essentially his father ate the original book as payment of a debt, and four years later Vinculus was born with the text on his body. He told me that he had been read the prophecy of the King by the last “Reader of the King’s Letters.” Not just the prophecy about you and Strange but also one about “the nameless slave,” a black man, a Christian, Stephen Black. 

I mentioned to him that you and Mr Strange had restored English magic, and Vinculus made an odd reply, such that I shall never forget it: “They ARE the spell John Uskglass is doing. That is all they have ever been. And he is doing it now!”

That in itself would be remarkable enough, but there is more. We set out to the south. I was debating with myself as to whether I should bring him to Hurtfew and allow you and Mr Strange to examine him. I knew your hatred for Vinculus and did not know how you would react when told that he was John Uskglass’ book. 

My quandary took a very different turn as we were riding along. Vinculus suddenly discovered that the text on his body had entirely changed. Naturally I was in a panic, wanting to stop some place where we could write down the previous text—but it turned out that apart from the prophecies, he had no idea what the rest of the text said. He also professed to have no notion as to what the new text might be. The old one was the prophecy, but the new one, he claims with his frivolous air, might be a receipt-book or a novel or God knows what.

It struck me at once that I might become the new Reader of the King’s book. As I told Vinculus, I cannot see that any one else has a better claim to becoming the next Reader. At any rate, I have taken it upon myself to keep guard over him and to guarantee that he does not leave me and thus deprive us of whatever knowledge we might be able to gain from him.

For the first book contained prophecies, and I see no reason to think that the new one does not as well. Vinculus also referred to you and Mr Strange as “England’s destiny.” I am not sure what that implies, but I wonder if the new text does not include further prophecies about the two of you. I have taken the goal of reading Vinculus as my calling in life, along with, I hope, making use of the knowledge that I gain from him. If the York Society and other magicians can aid me, then so much the better.

Your offer to support me in this task and in seeking to regulate and guide English Magic strikes me as exactly what I need to be able to pursue my goal. I agree to be your colleague and representative. Your “Man of Magical Business,” if you will. I no longer want a master. As I said, you were the last master I ever had. In this situation, I shall presumably be mostly on my own, making the decisions, consulting with Lord Liverpool and others. I suppose I shall be more on a level with your banker or lawyer, and independent. I shall also encourage Mr Segundus in his original desire to start a school. As to studying magic and acquiring my own books, I have longed to do so, and I thank you for your encouragement in that area.

So, yes, please send me the documents that will give me access to the money you offered. I shall use it to live in somewhat better circumstances than those in which I am now, but I shall not be profligate, I assure you. Some of that money will go to support Vinculus, whom you have despised in the past. I hope that upon learning his important part in the revival of English magic, you will not begrudge such support. Obviously it is better that I look after him than that you need take responsibility for him. I find him annoying and tedious at times, and yet at others he is quite amusing, or at least I think so. 

Indeed, your and Mr Strange’s extraordinary plans to move about the world in Hurtfew and the Darkness suggest that you could not undertake any such support of Vinculus. I realize that Mr Strange has obligations to his wife, but I suspect that he would be happier should he decide to travel with you and investigate unknown magic. If he does decide such a thing, you need not feel selfish or guilty about wishing him to do so. I agree that the two of you are destined to be together, and I thought so even before Vinculus told me of both your parts in the Raven King’s plan. Moreover, by now I believe that Mr Strange is so embroiled in magic that he could not be content away from you. 

Even so, were it not for these great responsibilities that I shall undertake, I believe I might join you in the Darkness, accepting the risk that it would seize me as well. Not that things could ever be wholly the same between us, of course. Still, I envy Mr Strange his ability to work beside you and share your friendship. 

Gaining the position as your man of business was the best thing that could have happened to a young man with a passionate interest in magic. I am touched to learn that you remember so vividly how that situation came about. Despite the difficulties that we faced, I have always been hugely grateful that you hired me so many years ago. I was happy in your employ and wish that it need not have ended. If my entry into your life was a boon to you, then I can only say that it benefited me as much, or more so. 

Nevertheless, I am glad that you have been reunited with Mr Strange. I wish both of you joy and good luck on your travels. I am sure that your great doings will be reported in the newspapers. I shall follow your future progress, as they say, with great interest.

Perhaps years from now, if magic comes to be well established and well regulated in England, I shall retire from my labours and join you in the Darkness—if the pair of you are still there and in contact with those of us in England and have not disappeared into the furthest reaches of this world or beyond. I shall hold fast to the idea that we might someday meet again. To witness the magic of two great magicians and assist them and learn from them!

Whatever happens in the future, I have longed for magic for most of my life, and now, in a sense, you have, after resisting for many years, given it to me. For that and for all the happiness we shared for so many years, I shall always be deeply grateful. I do hope that we may keep in correspondence with each other.

I remain your obedient friend and colleague (though not servant),

John Childermass

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Norrell had begun to weep during the last part of the letter, and he sat for a time, his eyes red and puffy. Eventually Strange came in, saw his distress and crossed to the desk.

“Why, Gilbert, what’s wrong?” he glanced at the letter in his lover’s hand and saw the signature. “Oh! Come over here and sit with me.”

He drew Norrell to the sopha and held him sympathetically. Norrell sniffed and handed him the letter.

Strange read it over and sighed. “I think you must have been a little in love with him.”

Norrell gulped and pulled out his handkerchief to blow his nose. “I suppose so. Nothing like the way I love you, I swear to you, but still ...”

“No, but the sort of love that I would imagine develops between two people who are each other’s main company for many years, especially when they develop an intimate relationship.”

“Yes. Thinking over our years together, I cannot imagine how I could have gotten along if he had not come to me looking for employment. If I had hired someone else—someone more like my banker, someone who knew accounting but had never dreamed of magic.”

Strange hesitated, perusing the letter again. “I suspect that Childermass may have been in love with you, deeply so. He cannot entirely hide it. You told me that he said you were the last master he would ever have. Then he was apparently just reassuring you that he would never quit. He certainly didn’t anticipate then that you would fire him! Now, after being fired he repeats that statement, as though it is a veiled pledge of fidelity, that you were the last lover he will ever have as well.”

Norrell stared at him, stricken. “Oh, dear, I hope his sentiment is not that strong. I would hate to have him lose someone that he loves as much as I love you. And for him to remain celibate! He is a very, well, manly fellow, as you can imagine. I would not wish that upon him.”

Strange stroked his cheek soothingly. “Perhaps I am wrong. At any rate, as you correspond with him, I would suggest you speak of me in quite neutral terms, in relation to the business of magic, and not as your lover. He does seem to assume that you and I …”

“Yes, of course, and I suppose I should not probe his feelings any further.”

“Definitely not. I’m sure he intends to keep them secret, to spare himself embarrassment and you grief. Ah, well, perhaps someday he will find someone else and discover that his heartache over you has faded enough to let him fall in love again.” 

The two sat up, and Norrell blew his nose again. He managed to chuckle. “I seem always to be crying these days. I almost never did so before. Not since I was a child, at any rate. The one exception was that day that you declined to remain as my pupil or even as my equal partner. I wept over that.”

“Oh, Gilbert,” Strange said sadly, kissing his forehead. “Well, I hope your recent crying is only temporary, as we thrash through these revelations of things that happened years ago and make profound changes in what we expected would be the courses of our lives. I intend to make you so happy that the only tears you will shed from now on will be those of joy.

“Now, to change the subject. I have, as you suggested, drafted letters that will settle my entire income upon Arabella. When we see her, I shall suggest that she find someone else, someone who will pay attention across the breakfast table and take her on long walks and sit with her by the fire, talking of any subject except magic. And give her children. I know she would be overjoyed by that. At any rate, once that business is arranged and all my money is gone, I shall be completely dependent upon you.” He smiled and kissed Norrell’s cheek lightly.

Diverted from his grief, Norrell smiled in return. “I think I am able to support you, my sweet Jonathan. Not only able, but delighted. Compared with the joy and support you give me, my wealth counts for little.”

“Don’t be too sure! Our ambitious plans for moving around the world may involve considerable expense! Speaking of which, we should return to our research. You tell me that we are on the brink of finding all the information we need, and I am becoming quite keen to see exotic places and discover new magic.”

“I think so. I definitely want to help you achieve your desires. First, though, I shall reply to Childermass and also arrange through Mr Robinson to have regular payments made to him and additional funds available for unexpected expenses.” He paused to think. “You and I may plan to travel great distances and even to other worlds. Still, we shall need to return at intervals to places where we can send mail to England and receive replies. After all, we must keep up with the progress of English magic.”

They separated for a time to pursue their full-time inquiry into moving Hurtfew.

A few hours later, as Strange approached Norrell’s desk, the other magician looked up happily, with only faint traces of his earlier sorrow upon his face. He said, “Look, I have found something quite interesting in Sutton-Grove that I think might provide a key passage we have been lacking for the composition of the travelling spell!”

Strange leaned over and skimmed through the text Norrell was pointing to. “Yes, that looks very promising.” He took his lover’s hand, kissed it and said joyfully, “Two magicians shall appear—any where they wish!”


End file.
